Deducing Watson
by SasstielNovasassk
Summary: It's coming up to Sherlock and John's 1 year anniversary and Sherlock has a plan in mind, but John will just have to wait to find out. Planning gets interrupted by a case, only for Sherlock and John to end up being confronted by Moriarty and Seb. Can Sherlock still pull his plans together? CURRENTLY BEING UPDATED AND FINISHED
1. Chapter 1

"John! John, come here! It's urgent, John," A deep baritone voice called. John sighed before hauling himself out of his armchair, which suddenly seemed a lot more comfortable the moment his voice had been uttered from Sherlock's mouth. He dragged his feet along the carpet floor in their dormitory lounge, shivering slightly as he crossed over onto the cold tiles of the bathroom floor. Sherlock had made himself comfortable in the empty bath, a few towels propped behind his back. His hands were pressed together, the tips of his fingers under the temple of his chin while he sat in deep thought. The sandy haired teen stood at the bath side, waiting impatiently for an explanation from the other.

"Sherlock?"

"What is it, John?"

"What am I doing here? You called me through."

"Oh, yes!" He remembered, breaking out of his reverie. "Could you hand me my notebook and pen? They're just there, next to the sink," Sherlock gave a vague signal towards the sink before returning his hands to underneath his temple.

"You dragged me in here… To get your notebook. Sherlock! It's right there, right bloody there. It's not even out of your reach!" John raised his voice and clenched his fists at his side.

"Yes, John. I know, however I'm busy."

The shorter of the two picked up the notebook and pen from the back of the sink and lay it in Sherlock's outstretched hand. He stood silently for a moment, wondering what was so important to the curly haired boy that he couldn't even get his own pen.

"First of all, Sherlock. What're you doing in the bloody bath? You've got a perfectly good chair in the lounge," John's expression was mixed with vexation and confusion as he waited for a reply.

"Well, I thought you would have noticed by now that I'm using the bathroom as a fortress for my mind palace," Sherlock replied coolly, taking no notice of John's little temper. He wasn't even sure why his boyfriend was getting so riled up in the first place. He had only asked him to get a few things.

"Okay, well fine then. Anyway, what exactly are you so busy thinking about? You've not had a case in weeks and I'd say you were doing nothing, but you don't just do nothing, so what?" John questioned.

"Are you forgetting what day it is a week today, John?" He shrugged his shoulders in reply with impatience seeping out into his actions. Sherlock shook his head slowly him before he continued. "Tsk tsk, love. Surely you're not forgetting our own anniversary. I thought you'd deem this occasion important. I was thinking we could do something romantic, perhaps. It's what normal people seem to like, anyway," Sherlock stated. John's face softened from his furrowed expression and left him looking horribly embarrassed, his cheeks a deep shade of pink.

"Oh, yes. Of course. No, I didn't forget. Nope. No," The shorter teen spluttered.

"I'll pretend you're telling the truth. Now, what do you suggest we do? It'll be a year we've been together, after all. I guess that holds some amount of significance," He finished, and lifted up his hand once more. John looked at the mass of curly locks falling over Sherlock's face, and wondered why he was holding his hand out. Sherlock quickly became impatient and grabbed onto John's hand, pulling him forwards sharply. He stumbled at the edge of the bath before he lost his footing and feel forwards, his arms flailing. He opened his eyes a few seconds later to find the rather startled face of his boyfriend under him, rubbing the back of his head.

"Oh.. Uhm, sorry about that. Although it was your fault, you pulled me," John apologised. He placed a hand at either side of Sherlock's waist and pushed himself up so he was sitting opposite the tall figure. A burst of verbal keysmash came from the face under the mess of black curls. Sherlock pulled himself up and leaned back against the towels after rearranging them.

"John!" He shouted exasperatedly.

"It was your fault, don't blame me!" Deciding it unnecessary to discuss the situation any further, Sherlock moved back to the purpose of their initial conversation. The two shared ideas, the majority of them coming from John and most receiving denial or 'the look' from the other.

Half an hour passed, and John was giving up on any possible progress, when Sherlock's eyes widened and stared into John's brightly.

"Sherlock, what is it? You seemed to have come up with something you like.. A lot by the looks of it. What is it?" The shorter boy inquired curiously.

"Not telling," Sherlock replied in a sing-song voice - a voice he only used when he knew something was going to work out exactly as he planned, or when he had a brilliant idea, according to him anyway . In this case, the voice meant both of these things.

"Oh, come on, Sherl! Tell me!" John pleaded, using his nickname and putting on puppy dog eyes to sweeten him up. The curly haired boy peered at his boyfriend for a few seconds, determining whether revealing his idea was worth it or not.

"No, John," He decided. "You'll just have to wait until next week. I'm sure you can manage."


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything!**

**I hope you're enjoying what little there is of this story so far! I'll try to update every other day, so you won't have to wait too long! Have fun! :D Oh, and PLEASE REVIEW!**

The soft rays of the morning sun were still barely visible when John was woken from a deep sleep by the sound of running water, which was far too loud for his liking at this time in the morning. He sat up, the duvet pooling at his hips, and rubbed his eyes groggily before attempting to focus on anything else around him.

As he looked around his dorm room, all he saw were scattered books, pencils and pens, and a whole load of other school equipment.

"Oh, for goodness sake, Sherlock." He muttered as he threw the covers back and went to step down out of his bed. He placed one foot onto the floor, taking a step forward as he did.

"SHERLOCK, BLOODY HELL!" The victim shouted.

"YES, JOHN? WHAT IS IT? I'M IN THE SHOWER." Came a reply that was drowned out by the sound of the water.

"You, Sherlock. You. Leaving everything in this room, all over the floor. I JUST STOOD ON A PLUG." He retorted, stepping on a mislaid calculator as he took another step. He didn't get a reply this time; the tall boy wanting to finish his shower in peace.

John made his way over to his closet, calculating each step carefully as he went, unhappy with the amount of effort he had to use at 5:30 on a Monday morning.

'Crap, it's Monday!' John thought, a look of regret crossing his face as he realised he had forgotten to complete his history report which was due first thing that morning.

The sandy haired boy grabbed his clothes and made his way as quickly as humanly possible across his room, which was resembling a bombsite at that moment. He hopped onto his bed for safety while he was getting changed into his school uniform.

"Blazers. Of all things to mark the senior year, blazers. Why bloody blazers?" He murmured to himself as he pulled his pyjama top over his head.

"Because, John. You think I look sexy in a blazer. You don't care if we have to wear them, as long as I oblige by the rule too." Sherlock announced as he emerged from the bathroom, a red towel wrapped around his small waist. He swiftly navigated his way over to his own bed, where his clothes and bag lay perfectly in order.

"Oh, shut up." John mumbled.

"Well, it's only your own opinion, John. I'm just voicing it, since you weren't planning to." The pale boy commented offhandedly.

That's… Brilliant." John praised his boyfriend, still amazed by his unusual skill of deduction, no matter how many times he witnessed it.

He proceed to slip on his shirt, buttoning up and tucking it into his trousers, Sherlock observing him all the while. He knotted his tie under the collar, and discarded the blazer for the time being. He stepped back onto the cluttered floor once again, this time being careful to avoid any hazardous objects he could stand on.

"Oh, by the way, Sherlock. What on earth were you doing last night once I was asleep. This room's a mess. You're cleaning it up yourself."

"Yes, don't worry, I will. As for what I was doing, that's not important right now. It's to do with my plans for our anniversary, and other things alongside it. You'll discover what soon enough." Sherlock explained while the burly boy worked his way around the room, picking up the equipment he required for the day. He threw his leather satchel to the bed, and opened it once he had finished rounding up his school things. He took out his history assignment sheet, sighing as he did, expecting to see two blank sheets of paper, save the question.

Instead he saw the two A4 pages filled with writing identical to his own.

"Sherlock, love. That's amazing. Thank you so much!" He sighed with relief and tiptoed over to plant a kiss on his boyfriend's lips, leaving him looking as pleased as Sherlock gets without the aid of a case.

They left the dorm to head to breakfast, thankful that they only had classes until lunchtime and then the rest of the day off. Sherlock declined food as usual, only managing the few forkfuls of sausage and egg that John forced him to eat.

As the bell rang to signal the start of first period, Sherlock and John exited the cafeteria, intertwining their fingers while they walked along the corridor. John swung their arms into the air before dropping his hand to his side, leaving Sherlock holding is lone arm in the air for a few seconds. He slid through the doorway to the history classroom and took his seat at the back of the class, the pale skinned boy taking the one next to him in the back corner.

The lesson didn't consist of anything important - apart from the handing in of reports- and the fair haired boy and Sherlock whiled away the lesson whispering quietly. The bell rang, and the class scrambled around, picking up bags and jackets before leaving the classroom empty to make their way to second period.

By lunchtime, Sherlock was getting tired of hearing John's stomach churn, and dragged him out of class as quickly as he could once the bell sounded.

"Sherlock, let go!"

"No, John. Need to get you food now. You're stomach's annoying me.

"My stomach's annoying you?! What on earth do you mean by my stomach's you?!"

"Hunger, John. You're hungry, and that noise your stomach's makes when you're hungry is highly distracting. Now, food."

He continued to drag the fair haired boy towards a free table, pushing him down on the closest seat, and then manoeuvred through the scattered tables and chairs to get to the lunch queue while it was still fairly short.

John sat twiddling his thumbs and coming up with several ideas as to what their anniversary plans could be, but then quickly discarding them as soon as he began to imagine Sherlock handling any of the previous situations in his head.

Sherlock spent his time in the queue watching and observing the slightly tan boy, and discussing his thoughts with himself in his head.

'Oh, for gods sake. He's never going to guess it. He should know that by now. Idiot.'


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything!**

**The chapters are going to get a little fluffier from here on, so I hope you enjoy it~! REVIEW PLEASE. Pretty, pretty please. :D**

John scoffed down his lunch of chips and a slice of pizza, Sherlock sitting in silence beside him before they made their way back up to the dorm, which the tall boy was still required to tidy.

"You may as well stop trying to guess what I have planned, John. You're never going to guess what it is."

"You don't know that." He replied, receiving 'the look' once again for the comment. "Well you don't" John pressed, even though he wasn't sure himself if he had any chance of guessing.

"As a matter of fact, love. I do. So why don't you finish your book while I tidy this room up?"

John sighed and edged through the mess before scissor jumping onto his bed. The pale skinned boy stood at the edge of the scattered items, hands on his hips and curls hanging over his eyes, deciding where to start tidying.

A good hour later the room was back to normal; which wasn't spotless, but it was a lot better that it had been that morning.

"Ahh, right, John! It's done! How'd I do?" He questioned his boyfriend. As confident as he was with himself, he always looked to John for praise on his domestic work, not quite sure whether it was up to standard.

"Well done, Sherlock! I can see the floor, that's a good sign." The sandy haired boy answered, smiling. Sherlock smiled back at him, feeling pleased with himself at having John's approval. The smaller boy walked out of the tidy room into the lounge space and settled himself on the sofa, Sherlock joining him a few seconds later. John put his arm around the tall boy's shoulder, pulling him into his side. Sherlock pulled his knees up to his chest, and leaned on John, snuggling into his warmth.

They talked effortlessly for what could have been hours on end, shifting position every now and then. John eventually lifted Sherlock off of him and lay him back down on the sofa before going back into their room to check the time.

"Sherlock! We better head down to dinner before the cafeteria closes! It's seven o'clock!" He shouted through to the sitting room. He hurried back through to his boyfriend who was still lying peacefully on the sofa, not seeing the importance in John's statement. "Sherlock, get up. Now! You need to eat. Properly this time."

"I'm not leaving this dorm again, John. I don't see the need to leave. I'm perfectly content here. You go to dinner, I'll see you when you get back." He waved his hand in John's direction.

"Fine, you stay here. I'll be back in about five minutes."

"Five minutes? It'll take you at least fifteen to get your dinner and eat it. Plus a minute and a half to get down and back up from the cafeteria each way."

"Yes, that's true. But I'm not eating dinner down there. I'm just going to go and collect some sandwiches, crisps, drinks and maybe a few slices of cake, and then I'm going to come back up here and eat. I'll feed you too, if I need to. You're going to eat, Sherlock." John stared into the tall boy's eyes, concerned for him.

"Oh, if you must. There's no point in arguing over the matter."

"Good. Glad you've come to that conclusion. Right, I'll be back in a few!" And with that, John disappeared out the door and quickly walked down the corridor and stairs to the cafeteria.

He returned to the room soon after, opening the door with difficulty, and rushing over to the small table, dropping the food that was in his arms. There was: 2 filled baguettes, 4 packets of crisps, 2 slices of chocolate cake and a few bottles of cola.

"Here we go, eat up!" John said cheerily, throwing a baguette to the curly haired boy. Sherlock sat up just in time to catch it, and reluctantly unwrapped the cellophane from the bread. He looked at it for a seconds, and then glanced up at John, who was tucking into his baguette while watching his boyfriend to make sure he ate his dinner, and not hide it from him like he did the last time. Sherlock gulped and took a bite of the chicken and cheese baguette, chewing a few times and then swallowing. His face lightened a bit before he smiled at John.

"Eugh, food. It's not too bad though, better that last time so I guess I can get most of this into my stomach."

"No, Sherlock. Not most of it. All of it. You don't have to eat the crisps." John corrected.

"Ahh, so you remembered that I don't mind eating cake so much. I must say actually, that it is my favourite food." Sherlock smirked, taking another bite of his baguette.

Fifteen minutes later he took his last bite of the baguette and beamed up at John who walked over and went to kiss him affectionately on the cheek. Just as his lips were about to make contact with Sherlock's cheek the aforementioned boy hooked a finger around John's chin and turned his head so he planted his own lips on his boyfriends' instead of his cheek. Sherlock ran his tongue along the small boy's bottom lips requesting entrance to his mouth, John responding instantly. Their hot breaths mixed while their tongues explored the others' mouth, a breathy moan escaping from the genius. He hooked his fingers into the belt hoops on the fair haired boy's trousers, pulling him onto his lap and wrapping his arms around his waist. John caressed the curly haired boy's cheekbones and jaw line and pulled away from him, but not letting more than a few centimetres comes between them.

"Your.. Che- cheekbones… Are bloody amazing." He whispered, breathing heavily before pressing his lips back against Sherlock's impatiently. He lifted his hands up to his boyfriend's top shirt button, working his fingers around it, blindly trying to unbutton it. Sherlock pushed his head back onto the sofa, separating his and John's lips suddenly. The burly boy, who's face was now panting, his face red and hair ruffled moved in again to kiss Sherlock, but was stopped by a finger that had been placed on his lips.

"Not tonight, love." Sherlock forced the words out.

"Wh- why not? Don't you want to?" John questioned, a look of disappointment on his face.

"Of course I do, believe me, I want to. You'll understand why I stopped you soon. I'll leave you to work it out yourself." And with that he softly pushed the shorter boy off his lap and stood up, picking up his slice of cake as he walked forwards and disappeared into the bedroom.

**Ohhh, I love teasing you guys! All these cliff hangers, eh! I'm really enjoying writing this, actually, so the more reviews etc. I get, the more incentive I have to write~!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything!**

**This chapter doesn't include anything too eventful, but it's necesary for the story, so I hope you enjoy it anyway! Reviewing would be brilliant! :D**

John slunk through to the bedroom a few minutes later, his mood deteriorating quickly after Sherlock had declined him. He dragged his feet along the floor until he reached the foot of his bed, and pulled his shirt over his head, and then his trousers down to his ankles before stepping out of them. The sandy haired boy sighed loudly before pulling back the duvet and quietly stepping into his bed, snuggling into his pillow and pulling the duvet tightly around his body. He squeezed his eyes shut, desperate to fall asleep as soon as possible.

As he was almost drifting off, he felt a cold hand slip underneath his duvet. John slid his hand against the cold one and shoved it out, closing the small space between the warmth of his bed and the rest of the room.

"John. I'm sorry, but you'll understand soon. Let me in."

"Go away, Sherlock. I don't care about that, just leave me alone right now."

"J- John. Please." John looked round to the tall, pale boy to see his pleading eyes staring into his own.

"Oh, bloody hell. Fine." He snapped, shivering as Sherlock lifted up the duvet while he slid himself in beside John. John turned on his side, so that his back was facing Sherlock, making sure he knew that he was still annoyed with him. The tall boy, feeling slightly upset for having hurt his boyfriend (even though he thought that John was being completely unreasonable about the whole situation) slid his arm around the smaller boy's waist, and pulled himself closer. After squirming around for a few minutes, Sherlock whispering short apologies to him all the while, John was beginning to accept Sherlock's effort to make him feel better and filled the spaces in between the pale boy's fingers with his own. He closed his eyes again feeling content for the time being, and quickly drifted off to sleep while Sherlock stared absent minded at the wall.

Sherlock blinked his eyes rapidly for a few seconds as he woke up before looking down to kiss John's fair hair. He slipped his hand from his boyfriend's smoothly as he rolled onto the floor from the bed, deciding it was the best way to take his leave without waking John. He sauntered over to the white chest of drawers a few feet from his own bed with an optimistic smile on his face. He went over the days plans once again in his head before picking out a plain black button up shirt and black skinny jeans. 'Thank god we have Tuesdays off. What's the point in having so much time taken up by classes . I haven't learned anything new since year 8' he thought while fiddling with the button on his jeans.

**| AN: Adfndnfwinwelfnwlfwepi the thought of him wearing skinny jeans made my ovaries explode. |**

After he was dressed and had brushed his teeth, he picked the silver key from the lounge table and unlocked the front door of the dorm. He quietly snuck out into the long corridor, closing and locking the door behind him before making his way to the stairs, his shoes clacking rhythmically as he walked. The pale boy walked past the empty reception and pushed open the double doors dramatically, walking swiftly down the middle of the flight of stone steps while letting the doors swing closed behind him, taking full advantage of the rest of the inhabitants of the building sleeping.

He sat attentively at the bus stop, waiting for the first bus of the day to arrive on the quaint street. It was only 5:45am and the sun was not to be seen through the grey overcast. Sherlock ventured into his mind, desperately trying to search out a piece of information he had filed away a few months ago.

"Ahh, what is it?!" He exclaimed, frustrated with himself. His pale grey-blue eyes flickered from the road to the pavement as he checked for any sign of the bus before drawing out a small pocket watch out of the back pocket of his jeans. '6:30, the bus should be arriving any minute now.' he thought.

Sherlock impatiently sat through another 15 minutes, muttering various blunt comments about buses never being on time. The bus finally pulled up at his stop, and the tall, thin boy jumped off his seat and scooped a few silver coins out of his pocket, dropping them into the money slot as he stepped into the bus, and took a seat at the front of the top floor.

John rolled over in his bed, expecting to end up facing his boyfriend, but instead got a nasty shock as he fell onto the floor, wrapped up in his duvet. He snapped his eyes open and scrambled to his feet, then walked over to the grimy window to stare out into the school grounds and the overcast sky. There was no sign of life outside yet, apart from the red bus that had just pulled up to the bus stop right outside the school grounds. John focused his gaze on the only vaguely interesting object in his view, blinking rapidly as he tried to make out the dark figure that was entering the bus. The boy disappeared, and reappeared shortly afterwards, taking a seat on the top floor. John looked at the boy more closely, sure that he looked familiar.

"SHERLOCK!" He shouted, forgetting that it was still before 7am. "What the hell is he doing, going in to bloody town at 6:30?!" John continued, vexed at his boyfriend. He could have at least notified John he was going to be breaking school rules once again. He paced around the dorm for a good few minutes before deciding there was no point in being angry at the matter, and dragged himself back into his bed, taking the rare opportunity to have a lie in.

The bus slowed as it pulled into the station in the small town of Rye, and Sherlock hopped off the raised platform and walked swiftly out into the cobblestone streets. He knew his way around the town well, able to pinpoint every shop, backstreet and café. He wasn't planning on having staying here long, heading straight to the 'Bella Italia' up the road. The restaurant was empty as he entered it, and a waiter hurried over before the door closed behind him.

"Good morning, sir. You're here rather early today. How can I help you?" The waiter asked.

"Good morning. Call me Sherlock, please." He replied. "Well, I hope you can help me." He added.

"I'm sure I can, si- Sherlock. What is it you'll be wanting?" The young man questioned, a light hearted smile on his face.

"I'd like to make a reservation, if you don't mind."

"Not at all. Excuse me while I go and fetch the schedule."

He returned less than a minute later with a pen and clipboard in his hands. Sherlock stood, hands in his pockets while he quickly thought what time would be best to have dinner at. '7pm. That seems normal enough.'

"When can I put you down for, Sherlock?"

"I'd like to book a table for two next Sunday evening at 7 o'clock please." The pale boy answered politely, trying to appear neutral while he held in his impatience.

"Of course, that's fine. I'll be seeing you then, Sherlock. Goodbye for now!" The waiter said cheerily before spinning around and returning to the back room.

After Sherlock left the restaurant he made his way to several shops, picking up a few different bits and pieces he felt would be useful for his plan before jogging slowly back to the bus station. He arrived just in time to catch the 9 o'clock bus, and paid his fare before taking the same spot on the top floor. The bus ride was uneventful as usual, and Sherlock fiddled with the contraptions he had purchased in town to amuse himself as he was driven back to the school grounds. As the bus came up to his stop, he stood up and pressed the 'stop' button and then ran down the spiral steps.

"Thanks." He said as he stepped off the bus. He wondered if John had woken up yet as he took quick steps towards the front door, pushing it open to re-enter the bane of his existence, however, less dramatically this time. He ran up the steps, not making as much of an effort to be quiet anymore since it was past 9am. Once he reached his dorm he pulled the key out of his pocket and unlocked the door, swinging it open, and closing it quietly behind him after he didn't hear any sign of John being awake.

"She- Sherlock?" The tall boy heard the tired whisper from his bedroom.

"Yes, John?" He asked softly. His tone of voice softened remarkably as soon as his boyfriend was in his presence.

"Where were you this morning?" The voice questioned, clearer this time.

"I was in town, love. I was just picking up a few things."


	5. Chapter 5

**Ah, new chapter finally! Sorry I took longer than usual to write it, been getting so much homework~! D: Well, it's up now. Enjoy it, and review please!**

By the time John decided to get up, it was late noon. He slumped to the bathroom, and quickly brushed his teeth before heading out into the lounge. As he walked through, he saw one of Sherlock's long, slender legs sticking out from under the sofa.

"Sherlock?" He asked, confused.

"Yes, John? I'm under here. What is it?"

"What the hell are you doing under the sofa?" Sherlock army crawled backwards until he was no longer under the sofa, and sprang to his feet, smiling comically at John. "So, what were you doing under the sofa, Sherlock?"

"Oh, nothing important. Just figuring out something for our anniversary." He replied to John. "Before you ask, you're not allowed to know!" He added in a sing song voice, shifting his eyes back to the bottom of the sofa, checking the subjects that were keeping him occupied.

"Hmm. Alright then. Well, it's 3 o'clock now, so we've still got half the day left. What're we doing?" John moved the topic of conversation on, knowing that he wouldn't be able to persuade his boyfriend into telling him what was under the couch, and there was no way he'd be able to sneak a look.

"What's that girl's name? The one that lives down the corridor. I've seen her a few times recently. Shy girl, not very sociable, she gets bullied a lot. Problems at home too, her parents are getting a divorce and they don't have enough money to live comfortably afterwards, causing her a lot of stress. She doesn't have any friends in her town either, but she likes someone at this school. Someone quite like her, I can deduce that much, but I can't tell exactly who it is that she likes, the people in this school aren't worth my time, I haven't bothered to find out half their names. She's in our chemistry class, I think. Even I myself cannot deny that she has a certain flare for the subject. Know who she is?" Sherlock finished his description and past deductions about her. John stood idly for a moment before lifting a hand up, pointing a finger in his boyfriend's direction and clicking his fingers.

"Molly Hooper! That's who she is. I remember seeing the name on her chemistry jotter once. Why are you interested in her all of a sudden?" He asked with his face screwed up. Sherlock was never interested in anything to do with anyone in this school, minus John.

"There's something about her, John. There's something bothering her."

"What? And you actually care about that? What is it, Sherlock?" The smaller boy questioned once again, wondering what could be so special about the meek girl down the corridor.

"It's not just the normal case of 'there's something wrong', John. That's why. There's something very serious, and very suspicious going on in this school right now, involving Miss Hooper. I intend to find out what it is, and soon. Solving this case means that we must interrogate her, and soon. Otherwise we may miss this opportunity, John! Something exciting going on, finally! We can't miss it." The pale skinned boy gasped sharply as he finished his statement, but his skin radiating with excitement and happiness. John stared at him in slight shock and disapproval. There were suspicious events going on right under there noses, and a girl being seriously affected by it and Sherlock was bouncing about with happiness. He soon realised that his boyfriend didn't have the same views on the situation as himself and calmed his facial expressions.

"Not good?" He asked.

"A bit not good, yeah." John replied while nodding slowly, his fists clenched against his legs. He only then realised that his hands were brushing against his bare skin, and looked down to see that he was standing in the lounge still only clad in his black boxer-briefs. He quickly felt his cheeks turning pink, and the tips of his ears becoming warm.

Sherlock looked into his eyes, smirking at his sudden realisation and embarrassment, before swiftly running his eyes up and down John's muscular build, involuntarily focussing on his crotch for a split second more than the rest of the boy, and biting down heavily on his bottom lip.

"Sherlock! Are you even listening to me?! I've been talking to you for the past five minutes!" John shouted, breaking Sherlock's intent gaze. "Sherlock? What are you doing?" John asked warily after following his boyfriend's eyes .

"No- Noth- N- N-. Nothing, dear." He stuttered, unable to collect his thoughts. John glanced at him knowingly before walking over to the tall, willowy figure a few metres away from him. Sherlock stood still, glued to the spot. He felt vulnerable right now, and he hated it. Confused with himself, the tall boy closed his eyes to think, without the distraction of John's almost naked body. He had evidently never felt vulnerable in his life, he didn't know what it felt like, until now, and he knew nothing else about it, except the fact that he hated it.

'Only you, John.' He thought, smirking lightly before opening his eyes again to find the fair haired boy standing less than a foot away. The feeling rushed back to him, and even John could tell that Sherlock wasn't used to feeling whatever way he was feeling at that moment.

"Are you… Okay, love?" John questioned, starting to feel worried with this reaction from his boyfriend. He had never seen him like this.

"Yes, fine. I'm fine." He replied. John nodded, making sure, and then tilted his head upwards to look at Sherlock properly. He stared into the pale grey-blue eyes, letting himself drift away for a slight moment.

"You're eyes are by far the most beautiful I have ever seen in my whole life, Sherlock Holmes." He stated, pushing himself up onto his tiptoes leaning himself forward and pressing his warm lips against Sherlock's, wrapping his arms round the tall boy's shoulders as he did. The burly boy pried his boyfriend's lips open, running his tongue slowly along his bottom lip before slipping it into the foreign mouth. He explored Sherlock's mouth once again, yet it always felt like a new experience. The tall boy pulled John against himself as he put his arms around the short boy's boyish waist, making him moan gently. He bit the tanned boy's bottom lip roughly, taking dominance. John moaned again, louder this time before pulling Sherlock even closer, desperate for more contact between them. He pulled him backwards, pulling Sherlock onto the sofa on top of him. The pale boy hooked his legs over John's hips so that he was straddling him, and moved back in for another heated kiss. The moans spilled desperately from their bruised lips, their hands intertwined, Sherlock pinning John's against the back of the sofa. The tall boy pulled away suddenly, gaining a wanton moan from John as he broke the contact.

"Sh- Sherlock." He whispered roughly, attempting to lift his head up to close the distance between them again. Sherlock pulled further away from him, leaving John straining to push himself up, and failing due to being pinned down. Sherlock shook his head, swinging his curls of his sweaty forehead, and looked down at John's midsection. He bit his lip and looked up at his boyfriend's face, meeting the lust-filled eyes. The pale boy leaned forward so that he was hovering inches from John's face, and thrust his hips forwards. The burly boy dragged his hands down the sofa, squeezing his eyes shut and letting out a sharp moan. Sherlock thrust again, feeling John's crotch harden beneath him.

He continued to thrust, feeling his jeans becoming unbearably tight around him. He leaned down, pressing soft kisses to John's jaw and neck, biting down and sucking on the base of his neck, leaving a deep purple mark.

The small boy tilted his neck backwards, letting out a ragged sigh. He moved forward, and trailed his tongue of Sherlock's pronounced collar bones before making his own mark, biting down and sucking, swirling his tongue on the bone. The pale boy's - who's face was now a deep shade of pink, and sweaty - body jolted and he arched his back, pressing down onto John's crotch.

"J- John." He panted, voice staggered.

"She- Sh- Sherly?" He questioned.

"John, what I said the other night, that doesn't matter anymore. You. Bedroom. Now."

**Ohhh, aren't I lovely. No sexy times yet. Soon, though.. Soon. xD**


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything!**

**AN: Sorry I took so long to upload this chapter! D: I was away with my family, and had no internet connection for the weekend. Well, I'm gad to be back, and I'll be uploading new chapters every other day or so, like I said before my little trip away. I hope you enjoy it, though! I had more time to write, so I hope it's worth the time I spent on it! Review if you have time please, it really helps~! :D**

The alarm went off, ringing through John's ears. He grumbled before detaching his hands from Sherlock's small waist and rubbed his eyes open. Sherlock remained peaceful, his eyes closed lightly and his Cupid's bow lips set in a perfect pout. The smaller boy admired his boyfriend's state for a few seconds before pulling the duvet back, his face turning up into a satisfied smirk as he did. Sherlock lay on his side, every inch of his pale, smooth skin on show. His hipbones were perfectly defined, stomach flat and slightly toned, and his collarbones; they were prominent to sa the least. John's eyes fixed on the willowy figure, running up and down the curvature of his waist and up past his shoulders. A wave of frustration crashed through his body, sending unwanted signals to the lower region of his body.

"Oh, bloody hell, Sherlock." He muttered to himself, cheeks turning red as he glanced down towards his uncovered crotch. John stood up on the mattress and hopped over the tall boy onto the floor, landing as lightly as possible. He tiptoed over to the bathroom, shutting the door behind him before starting the shower and stepping into it.

Sherlock tossed and turned on the sheet, sensing that he was now lying alone.

"Johhhnnn." He grumbled, only half conscious. A moment later his eyes snapped open as he attempted to hook his arm round the smaller boy, and ended up swooping through open air.

'Ugh. Classes today, a whole day of them. On the upside, that means John will be showering. Yes, I'm right, there's the sound of the water running.' The tall boy thought to himself. He sat upright, shaking his head vigorously to waken him up properly, his jet black curls lagging behind him. His pale feet sunk to the floor, and he stood up, stretching out his elegant figure. The dark shadow on the wall followed Sherlock as he crossed the room before stopping just outside the bathroom door. The sound of 'Walk an Egyptian' came from the shower in John's karaoke voice.

"Oh for goodness sake. What is it like, being in his funny little brain?" Sherlock said, rolling his eyes before breaking out into a small chuckle. He pressed the door handle down with minimum noise, and pushed the door open only just enough to slide his small frame through. He closed it again, and took a step forwards, so that he was standing in the middle of the bathroom. The voice continued to echo throughout the steamy bathroom for another minute or so, before breaking off in the middle of a line, after John thought he heard the floor creak. He pulled back the curtain slightly and poked his head out the side to see Sherlock smiling at him, hands on hips.

"Sherlock, what're you doing?"

"I'm going to take a shower, problem?"

"Yes, problem. If you didn't notice, I'm already in the shower." John stated obviously.

"John, please stop making such obvious observations. I know you're already in the shower. I'm coming in."

"No. No, you're not. We have school, Sherlock! We don't have time for this." John furrowed his eyebrows and disappeared back behind the shower curtain.

"Yes, John, I know. I only intend to take a shower." Sherlock replied coolly, making his way over to the tub. He pulled back the curtain slightly and stepped in, pulling it back behind him. The fair haired boy turned around and picked up the shampoo from the shower floor, a look of slight annoyance tinting his face.

"John, I really don't know why this bothers you so much." Sherlock said as the shorter boy lathered his hair.

"Because, Sherlock. I don't trust you. No one, not even you can know what you're going to do next." John replied, pointing out a fact that Sherlock had yet to pick up on.

"Oh. I see. I guess you're right. However, I promise that I'm only here to shower, the same as you. I mean, we have classes today, even though they're a complete waste of time. I could be doing something far more interesting. Like interrogating Miss Hooper. " Sherlock rambled on a little, beginning to talk to himself about plans of action with the possible case he had discovered. John lifted a hand up and placed it over the tall boy's mouth, stopping his garbling. The grey-blue eyes looked down to meet his boyfriend's, and he lay his hand over John's, moving it to uncover his mouth, then moved his lips to one of John's fingertips. He bit down lightly on the top of the smaller boy's ring finger, and then placed his lips around the tip.

"Sherlock. No. You promised." John said sternly, pulling his hand away from his boyfriend sharply. The pale boy nodded and apologised to John before proceeding to wash his hair. He squeezed a ridiculous amount of shampoo into his hand and pressed it onto his head. He started vigorously lathering it until there was a pool of bubbles covering the mass of curls on his head, leaving John in fits of laughter at his concentration in washing his hair.

"What, John? What is it?! Why are you laughing at me?" Sherlock asked, confused at what was so humorous about him.

"You, Sherlock, love. Just watching you wash your hair, you concentrate more that you do when you're in the middle of a deduction." He laughed.

"Well, of course I do. It's important, isn't it?"

"Yes, love. It is. Continue." Sherlock went back to washing his hair, while John giggled softly. He lifted up one finger to the tall boy's hair, standing on his toes to reach, and scooped a bunch of suds from his hair. Sherlock stared at him, constantly unable to work out why he found John so unpredictable. So… Different. John lowered his hand to Sherlock's face, and placed the bunch of suds onto the pale boy's nose with an accomplished smile plastering his boyish face.

The days events passed in a blur to Sherlock, his mind continuously busy with the problem of the girl a few dorms down from him. He needed to find out what was going on with Molly Hooper, and he intended to find out soon. That very same day if got his way.

The bell for sixth period sounded, and the class all rushed out of the chemistry classroom to head back to their dorms, including John. He waited outside the classroom for Sherlock, who was loitering and waiting for his opportune moment.

"Go on without me, John. I'll be back to the dorm in around an hour at most. I just need to do a few things first." He half-shouted to his boyfriend, making sure that he heard.

He took his time packing away, as Molly Hooper was still in the classroom, cleaning and putting away all of the equipment from the class' experiment.

"Would you like any help with that?" Sherlock asked her.

"Ehm, yes please. That would be lovely, thank you!" The girl replied. She seemed happy to be spoken to in a nice way, as it didn't seem that happened often. Sherlock wandered around the classroom picking up numerous beakers, bottles of sodium hydroxide and copper chloride, returning them all to the science trolley while he thought of the best way to approach the interrogation.

"Eh, Molly, is it?" He questioned, attempting to start small talk between them.

"Yes, that's me! And you're Sherlock. Hello."

"Hello, Molly." He replied again. The mousy girl began chatting to him about chemistry, and moved on to the topic of forensics, which caught Sherlock's interest. It sounded interesting, investigating crime scenes in that way. This made things much easier for him, and he then moved in to begin his interrogation.

"Molly, may I ask you something?"

"Of course you can. What is it?"

"What's happening in this school? What is it that's happening? That no one should know about, but you do." Molly looked taken aback, uncertain how this boy had come to know there was something going on.

"I- I have no idea what you're talking about." She answered, her voice shaky.

"Look, Molly. I don't have time for this. This is for your benefit, I can tell that it's bothering you greatly, I've been observing you since I noticed. Now, tell me everything you know about the situation and I'll fix it all. I promise."

"How, how do you know there's something going on? I can't tell you what it is. I'll get in a lot of trouble. You don't know what they're like." Molly stared at Sherlock, her eyes filled with fear, and her body quivering. The tall boy to a few long strides forwards, so that he stood directly in front of the slight girl. He leaned forwards so that his face was level with hers, and reached a hand up to sweep hair behind her ear. He peeked his head round so that he could clearly see her ear, and plucked a clear, small earpiece out, dropping it onto the floor and standing on it.

"Now, Molly. You're safe, I promise you. Now tell me all you know about these people, and what they're up to."

"I d-don't know what they're doing. Mot exactly, they won't tell me. They've threatened me. Told me that if I don't do exactly what they say, there'll be consequences, I can't repeat what they said."

"Good, good, Molly. You're doing well. Now who are these people?" he asked her, his eyes widening with anticipation.

"I don't know. That's the problem. I've never had any real contact with him, only his workers." Sherlock's face fell again as she spoke these words, realising that this case was going to require a lot more work and investigation than he had first thought.

"A name, Molly! Is there a name?" He exclaimed, trying to figure out who or what this organisation may be.

"M- Mo- Moriarty."

"Moriarty? What's Moriarty?" The pale boy asked, confused and looking for more information or leads.

"I don't know, Sherlock. I was tricked into this. I can tell you something though, that might help. " Molly drew a small pile of crumpled paper out of her lab coat pocket and lay them on the table, unfolding each one individually. There lay three printed photos, taken from the internet most likely.

"They want this. I don't know what it's called, or what it does, they won't tell me. All I know is that it's in this school, they want it, and I have to get it for them. "

"Molly! You are brilliant! Thank you! Right, I must be off, I'll see you again soon, within the next day or two. Hopefully. Lat'rs!" Sherlock said, picking up the photos and bouncing out of the classroom, leaving the small, mousy girl standing speechless in the middle of the classroom.

Sherlock re-entered his dorm, storming over to the table and pressing the photos down flat.

"Sherlock! What're you doing?" John asked, trying to distract his boyfriend from disappearing into his mind palace.

"John, now is not the time for questions. I talked to Molly Hooper. There's something, or rather, someone: Moriarty, who is looking to claim possession on something that is in this school. I don't know where it is, or who Moriarty is, but I do know that this needs to be investigated. Ohh, this is going to be fun. Something interesting, at last!" The burly boy already looked defeated, deciding that it was useless to try and prevent Sherlock from immersing himself in this case. He sighed deeply and retreated to his laptop, starting on his English essay.

"John, I'll be in the bathroom, sitting in the bath, just like a few days ago. I need to go to my mind palace, don't disturb me. Unless I specifically ask you for something."

"Oh, you can't keep bloody doing this, Sherlock!"

"John, please. I promise I'll be no longer than the coming night. This is important."

"Okay. Okay. The night, and no longer! Goodnight, love." John responded.

"Goodnight, John. I- I love you."


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything!**

**AN: I'm falling behind a little bit, aren't I?! Sorry about the little delay again! I think I'll start updating this every 3 or 4 days, as I have a lot of homework/studying to do. Eugh, I'd rather write but it's necessary! This is a very short chapter, but I hope you enjoy it all the same! No one's been reviewing it though D: So if you could review it, that would be lovely thanks! (Also, you'll get bacon, cookies, rainbows and unicorns if you do ;D).**

The hours were moving along far too quickly for Sherlock's liking, the time coming up to 2am. He lay down in the bath, resuming his unofficial thinking position, hands pressed against the temple under his chin, eyes closed. The thoughts flew through his mind, being discarded as quickly as they were thought up. The pale boy wasn't getting very far with this case, with having next to no data about the situation. He opened his eyes slowly and pulled himself upright, reaching forward to the tap. The pale, graceful hand settled on the cold tap, turning it four times four times towards the left. Water came pouring out, splashing into the tub, and pooling around his legs and hips, the volume increasing rapidly. Sherlock lay down again, dipping his black mass of hair into the cold water, closing his eyes again for a minute or so before turning the tap back to the right to stop the flow of water. The long figure sunk down into the water, letting itself be consumed by the clear liquid that flooded over him.

It could have been minutes before Sherlock emerged from underneath the water, though it felt like hours to him. He released the last of his breath from his lungs, making air bubbles in the water as he raised his head out into the open air. He took a few shallow breaths and then a large one before ducking under again, re-entering his mind palace.

The process continued for an hour or so, before Sherlock resurfaced for the last time, a soft I-know-what-you're-doing smirk on his face. He pulled the plug and stood up in the once again empty bath, his clothes drenched and sagging with the weight of the water. The tall boy stepped as gracefully as possible out of the bath onto the shower mat, grabbing a towel from the rack and ruffling his hair with it, stopping the water dripping down onto his face. He tiptoed through to the bedroom, still clad in his wet clothes, shirt sticking to his body, slightly see through.

John lay awake in his bed when Sherlock came into the room. He quickly closed his eyes and wriggled around under the duvet, trying to give the impression that he was sleeping.

"John, I know you're awake. Please stop doing that, you're making a fool of yourself." Sherlock stated quietly. The burly boy twisted round so that he was facing his boyfriend and smiled sheepishly at him.

"I… Had to make sure that you were okay. I wasn't going to sleep unless you were in your bed."

"John, love. I'm fine. I wasn't doing anything dangerous."

"I know, Sherlock. I know. I can't help but worry though. I mean, you sometimes drift so far out of reality in your 'mind palace' that I spend hours trying to bring you back. I need to make sure you're okay." John explained. The tall boy stood in the dark, his eyes widening and staring into John's somewhat apologetically, which was a rare occasion.

"Oh. John- John I'm so sorry. Please, do not worry about me. I'm fine. I'm here now, go to sleep, dear." He whispered, walking over to his boyfriend as he spoke, pecking him on the cheek as he reached the bed.

"O- Okay. Night, Sherlock."

"Sleep well, John. I have our day planned tomorrow, I must add."

"But we have classes tomorrow, Sherlock. You do know they actually mean something to some of us, don't you?"

"Obviously, John! However tomorrow is an exception. You'll like it, I promise. Goodnight!" Sherlock said bouncily, smiling widely, and blowing a kiss to John before closing his eyes and drifting off.


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything!**

**AN: I'm not doing so well updating it when I say! Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter! It's a bit different from the others, but don't worry, there'll be more fluff soon! I thought having something like this would make the story more typically Sherlocky. Hope you enjoy it! And please review! It helps!**

The alarm went off at the usual time of 6:30am, abruptly pulling the two boys out of their dreams. Sherlock jumped out of his bed, running to John's side in practically no time at all.

"John, get up, John!" He shouted.

"I'm up. I'm up, give me a minute, won't you?"

"We don't have a minute. We need to go, now!" The tall boy exclaimed, his eyed wide with excitement.

"Sherlock, I'm in my bloody pyjamas!"

"Get dressed then, quickly. We need to go!" Sherlock dashed over to his draers and pulled out various items of clothing, pulling them onto his body before John had managed to choose what he was going to put on.

"John. I said quickly. Hurry up." Sherlock said impatiently, tying his shoelaces and springing to his feet, while the smaller boy was still wiggling his trousers on.

Five minutes later the boys were heading towards the door out into the corridor. John locked the door behind them, and they set off along the empty corridor in the direction away from the stairs. They walked forwards for around thirty seconds before John began to get confused.

"Sherlock, where are we going?"

"You'll see, John."

"Well, it's obviously somewhere inside the school, so you may as well tell me." John said, stating what seemed to be the obvious answer. His boyfriend smirked at him, making him even more confused and somewhat suspicious of what Sherlock's plans were.

"I said you'll see, John." The tall boy said again, picking up his walking pace and breaking into a slow jog. John gave up on finding out where they were going, and followed Sherlock without any further questioning. They turned left a the end of the corridor, and went through a door on the right, next to the cleaners cupboard. John had never been through this door before, and hadn't ventured around that general area of the school often, only a few times when Sherlock had dragged him along to collect chemistry supplies for his experiments. The door they went through led into a narrower corridor. It was sufficiently lit, but a little dimmer than the mainstream corridors.

"Sherlock. Where the hell is this?! How did you know about it?" The burly boy asked, his voice being a tell tale sign of his worry.

"We're heading out of the school, John. But this corridor takes us directly out of the grounds. So that we won't be seen. Not like anyone would notice us anyway, but it's better not to take the risk."

"Oh, okay. That, uhm, makes sense, I guess."

"Yes, it does. Now hurry up. We don't have much time." Sherlock said, jogging more quickly now. The corridor seemed to go on forever, turning left and right, several flights of stairs slowing them down before they finally came to a door again.

"Ahh, finally! Seemed to take longer than usual, that journey." The pale boy commented.

"What? How often do you come this way?!"

"Quite often, when I'm on a case, mostly. Not very often otherwise."

"Right, okay. That's fine. Anything else you want to tell me about?" John asked, vaguely annoyed.

"No. Why would there be?"

"No reason. Doesn't matter." Sherlock shook his head, not understanding why John would think he would have anything else to tell him. He swung the door open and the morning sun beamed down through the thin cracks in the clouds. They stepped out onto the moss covered path, and walked towards a gate that was a few metres forward. Sherlock swung it open and they walked through, stepping onto the main path of the quaint village. The tall boy took John's hand in his, and they set off going left.

After another half an hour of walking, Sherlock stopped suddenly.

"What is it, love?" John asked.

"Here, look. There's tiny splatters of blood on the pavement." He pointed to a slab directly in front of him, and crouched down to get a better look. Sure enough, there were a dozen or so spots of blood on the grey slab. Sherlock took his small magnifying lens from his trouser pocket and examined the spatters more closely.

"John, my scalpel, please."

"I don't have your scalpel, Sherlock."

"I know that. It's in my pocket. Can you get it for my please?"

"Right. What pocket?"

"Back left, love." John rolled his eyes at his boyfriend's feeble attempt at flirting before reaching down into Sherlock's trouser pocket, and pulling out a small scalpel, most likely stolen from biology. He laid it into Sherlock's palm, and sat down on the path. He waited silently while the pale boy took scrapings from the ground, putting them into a plastic bag and placing it carefully back into his pocket.

"Right." Sherlock said, standing up again. "That's all. Let's go." John stood up, and they continued forwards, following the blood splatter on various slabs in front of them. The abundance of them was getting less and less on each time, but Sherlock still followed them further, until there was nothing left to go on, according to John.

"Sherlock, there's nothing left now. There's nothing more we can do right now." Sherlock laughed at him, shaking his head in disbelief.

"Nothing more we can do? John, this is brilliant! We- Well, I know exactly what to do, obviously."

"Yes, obviously. So what do we do?" The small boy questioned.

"We go back to the school, the way we came out of it. I have to use one of science labs. I need to examine this blood. Then after that we head back the same way again. We need to go to the cleaner's cupboard." Sherlock explained.

"The cleaner's cupboard?!" John exclaimed. "What's the bloody cleaner's cupboard got to do with anything?!"

"Oh, John. I often wonder what it's like in your head. You're not an idiot, per se. Not like the rest of them, surely it must be obvious to you?" The tall boy waited for a reply, still not understanding that John didn't understand what was going on.

"No, Sherlock. It's not obvious to me. I haven't the slightest what we're doing!"

"Oh. Well. The cleaner's cupboard, John! That cupboard. It had one tiny splatter of blood on it, and if I'm correct, it will be the same blood we found on the pavement. We need to go to the lab to test it, and then see if it matches up with the splatter on the door handle." And with that he grabbed John's hand and pulled him back along the path, sprinting back to the gate and into the corridor before allowing them both a break. The two boys walked leisurely through the corridor and back into the main school, heading straight to the lab.

"John, look! It's exactly as I thought!"

"What?"

"The blood. It belongs to Molly Hooper. Let's go. Now!" Sherlock rushed out the room before John had time to react, and was running up the stairs to the sleeping quarters of the building. He sprinted along the corridor now that everyone else was in class and the floor should be vacant.

"Sherlock!" John shouted.

"Yes?!" The tall boy shouted back.

"Won't the teachers be wondering where we are?"

"No, John. Of course not, I've covered that already." Sherlock said as he came to a stop in front of the door to the cleaner's cupboard. He examined the door as he waited for John, checking his results of the blood splatters outside to the one's on the handle.

"Okay, John. Let's go." John nodded, intertwining his hand in Sherlock's, while the tall boy wrapped one hand around the handle, swinging the door forwards.

**AN: I had quite a lot of fun writing that chapter! The case is getting into full swing now! Nothing suspicious about a cleaner's cupboard, right? Until I start to write xD **


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything!**

**AN: I was without wifi for two days (horrible experience) but it actually gave me time to sit and write a good chapter! Bit of slash here, so I hope you enjoy it! I did when I proof read it, I must say! xD Review please! **

Sherlock felt out a cord connected to the ceiling and pulling it, switching on a dim light.

"Sherlock, what're we doing in a bloody cupboard?! There's nothing here apart from… I don't know. Cleaning stuff!"

"Of course, that would be the logical assumption. However, yet again you fail to observe. Look at the back wall. What do you see?"

"I see a wall, Sherlock. A wall. That's is. That's all there is, can we go now?"

"Ohhh! You don't get it do you?! I wouldn't have brought you here if it was just a wall. Look, John, really look!" Sherlock's voice was filled with frustration, desperate for his boyfriend to figure out what was different about this cupboard. John stared intently around the shelves, walls and floors, trying to pick out something odd, and again failing.

"I don't see anything, Sherlock."

"There, John. In the back right corner, there's a large chip of paint."

"What on earth does a chip of paint have to do with anything?"

"Nothing, I was trying to distract you. Now turn around, and you'll see." John turned round to face the door, which was now fully closed and locked. He scanned the surface of the door, his eyes focusing on one panel in particular.

"Ahh, see, now you get it! While I had you distracted I made the oddity of the door more obvious."

"Yes, I see it now. But what is it?"

"The panel slides out, and there's obviously something hidden inside it, or else there wouldn't be a removable panel. The question is, what is it that's hidden? Let's see." The tall boy dropped down into a crouch and put his fingertips against the panel, pushing gently. The thin slab of wood tilted forwards, and Sherlock grabbed it from the bottom and slid it out of it's place, laying it on the floor. He reached inside of the hollow door, and felt around, expecting there to be some sort of object inside.

"The- There's nothing there." Sherlock said, his voice and face filled with disbelief. "No, that's not right. There has to be something! It wouldn't be there if there was nothing to hide!" He slumped against the wall, curls falling over his eyes as he leaned forwards. The fair haired boy kneeled down in front of him, taking one of Sherlock's pale hands in his own.

"Sherlock, maybe the owner took it out, or something. Or someone else, I don't know! You're right though! There is something odd about this cupboard, you knew that! There must be something else here that you can get another lead from, or something like that." Sherlock snapped his head up vigorously, his eyes fixated on his boyfriend's.

"John, repeat what you just said. The first two sentences. Exactly as you said them."

"…Sherlock, maybe the owner took it out or something. Or someone else did, I don't know." John finished, confused at why that seemed to be of some interest to the taller boy.

"Oh, John! You are a genius! Come on, we need to go!" The curly haired boy took John's head in his hands, planting a firm kiss to his lips before pulling them both up to their feet, and sweeping out of the cupboard, slamming the door behind them.

Two girls stopped in their tracks, right in front of them before bursting out into a fit of giggles.

"Have fun in there, did you?" The brunette girl asked through a giggle.

"Yes, quite. Not in the way you're thinking though." Sherlock replied bluntly. "Before you start protesting, which you were, I'd like to notify you that we don't have time for this right now, or anytime. John, let's go."

Dinner was only half an hour away when the two boys got back to their dorm. Sherlock carried no less than half a dozen evidence bags in his hand, laying them all carefully on the coffee table as he passed.

"Well, love. I have to say that we advanced far more than I thought we would in this case today." The pale boy said proudly. He walked over to the bedroom door, hanging his black trench coat on a hook before walking back to the middle of the lounge and dropping down onto the sofa. John smiled at his partner affectionately, receiving one of Sherlock's widest smiles in return. The fair haired boy turned away from the smiling boy, walking into the bedroom and through to the bedroom. He twisted the cold tap, rinsing his hands under it before splashing the cold water onto his face a few times. He grabbed a hand towel from the rack and buried his face into it.

"SHERLOCK, BLOODY HELL!" John shouted as he looked up from the towel, quite frankly shocked from Sherlock's sudden appearance in front of him. He raised his hand up and smacked it onto the pale skin on Sherlock's face. The small figure sunk to the floor weakly, burying his face in his hands while Sherlock stood planted to the spot, his hand resting over his cheek, where John had hit him. He looked down as he heard a quiet sob, and sat down beside him.

"Sherlock… I am s- so, so sorry. I di- didn't mean it. I'm sorry." The burly boy cried into his boyfriend's side. He felt Sherlock's arm wrapping around his body, pulling him in closer. John looked up at the angular face, running his thumb over the rosy pink spot on Sherlock's cheek, before pulling himself up to press several light kisses to it. He trailed the kisses down Sherlock's jaw and to the corner of his mouth. The tall boy dodged the next kiss on his jaw and edged down so that John ended up kissing the Cupid's bow lips instead. He pressed his lips down tenderly to Sherlock's, prying them open, taking in the sweet taste of his boyfriend as their breaths mixed. The kiss rapidly became more heated, lustful moans escaping from the mouths of the two boys. John pushed the curly haired boy to the floor, straddling him as they kissed and wrapping his arms round Sherlock's neck. John tore his lips away from Sherlock's, kissing down the sharp jaw line again and trailing down to his neck. He laid light pecks to the base of his boyfriend's neck, feeling the heat emanating from his body along with hearing the wanton moans from the tall boy's mouth. John bit down and sucked on Sherlock's pale neck, swirling his tongue on the sensitive skin as the long, elegant fingers gripped the back of his shirt almost desperately. The smaller boy detached himself from Sherlock's neck, leaving a dark blue-purple mark.

The tall boy's hands moved round to the front of John's shirt, fiddling with the buttons, undoing them so that the chequered material hung loosely his muscular body.

"Sher- Sherlock. Dinner's in fifteen minutes. We.. Can't. Not now." John stuttered through a moan as Sherlock ran a finger up his spine.

"There's food in the lounge, I got some from the kitchen while you were collecting the evidence bags." Sherlock smirked, pulling John down for another passionate kiss.

"You, you planned this didn't you?"

"To a certain extent, yes. Problem? I don't think there is somehow, judging by the 'tent' as they call it, in your trousers."

"You.. I can't believe you! I can't deny that it worked though."

"Well, that's obvious, John. Now shut up." Sherlock said, pulling John down on top of him roughly and pushing his hips up. The fair haired boy rolled his hips forward against Sherlock's, while he ran his fingers through the mass of black curls, gripping his boyfriend's hair and tugging gently.

"John.. I need you, John. Right now." Sherlock whispered raggedly, pulling John's shirt of his sweaty body. He gazed at the muscular body of his boyfriend, giving out a breathy moan as he bit down on his lip. He unbuttoned his own shirt as quickly as he could manage between kisses, ripping it off his body and pulled John down again, pressing their bodies together.

"John, now." The smaller boy slipped one hand from Sherlock's curls and ran it down the willowy figure onto the bulge in the black skinny jeans. He pressed down, applying pressure until he heard a whimper from Sherlock. John rubbed his hand over his boyfriend's crotch area as he worked his lips around the base of the pale neck once again, enjoying the reaction he received from the boy pinned beneath him. He pulled the zip down, and popped the button open, laying his hand on Sherlock's inner thigh. The tall boy, hooked his arms round John's shoulders as thrust his hips up roughly, desperate for contact. He ran his nails down the fair haired boy's back, leaving red marks on the skin, thrusting up again as he hooked his thumbs into the waistband of John's trousers. He yanked them down to the ankle, and kicked them off John's person, discarding them on the bathroom floor. Sherlock grasped firmly onto John's ass as he rolled his hips onto his own. The toned boy trailed a finger down Sherlock's torso, and under the waistband of his black boxer-briefs. John wrapped his hand around Sherlock's erection, sliding it slowly up and down the length, until the curly haired boy pleaded again.

"John. John, please, I'm begging you. Now." John smirked, and lifted himself off Sherlock, placing himself between the long legs. He lowered his head painfully slowly, and stuck his tongue out to skim Sherlock's tip.

"Ugh!"

"Shh, now." John teased again before swirling his tongue around the head of Sherlock's erection and taking the first few inches into his mouth. He took more of the length into his warm mouth, flicking his tongue over the most sensitive areas to get a satisfying reaction out of his boyfriend. He began to bob his head, sucking at the tip, feeling a slither of pre-cum leak out.

"A- Ah, John! Don't make me beg, John. Fuck me." Sherlock moaned.

"I want to hear you beg."

"Please, John… I need you to fuck me right now. Now, John. Now!" The tall boy pleaded, his eyes glazed over with lust. John took his whole length into his mouth, gagging as Sherlock's erection hit the back of his throat. Sherlock threw his head back, biting down hard on his lip.

"JOHN. FUCK ME, NOW! PLEASE!" Sherlock shouted, voice filled with desperation and defeat. John removed the throbbing length from his mouth, and moved up so he was lying over his boyfriend. He moved his mouth next to Sherlock's ear, and whispered into it.

"No." He stated, grinning evilly, before moving back down and taking Sherlock's member in his mouth again. He bobbed up and down quickly, swirling his tongue round. Sherlock's moans became staggered and frequent, and more desperate than before.

"Jo- John.. I'm…I'm coming." Sherlock stuttered, grabbing onto John's hair and pulling as his bucked his hips up. A loud moan tumbled from the pale boy's mouth as warm, off-white liquid filled John's mouth while he lowered his hips back to the floor.

"Argghh!" John removed Sherlock's length from his mouth, swallowing quickly. The tall boy took in quick, shallow breaths, wiping his brow and sweeping his sweaty locks from his face. John rolled over onto the right side of his boyfriend and lay down on his back, resting his head on the toned arm.

They lay on the floor, quiet for a while, before Sherlock spoke again.

"Dinner? I don't usually eat while I'm on a case, but as it turns out, I'm rather hungry now."

"Sure. What've you brought up?"

"Well, I have a few sandwiches, but how about we go to the small Chinese restaurant down the road? It's open ''til late and no one'll know, because we've got our secret passage." Sherlock said in a somewhat sing-song voice.

"Sounds good! Split the bill?"

"I've got it covered, love."


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything!**

**AN: Sorry I took so long to post this chapter, I've been rather busy! Also, it's another short one, so another sorry for that too, but I'll make it up by writing a long chapter next time! Please review!**

"Ah, Friday. Finally." John said, sighing with satisfaction.

"Yes. Friday, brilliant. I need to finish with this case. Soon." Sherlock began buzzing about the room, picking up rogue jotters and pencils, shoving them into his bag before heading out into the lounge area. "John, hurry up. I can hear your stomach rumbling again. It's annoying me."

"Yeah, yeah! Give me a few minutes, just need to grab my shoes and bag!" The fair haired boy threw his black shoes over to his bed, as he walked to sit on the mattress. He pulled them on, and jumped up, grabbing his bag off the bed post and walking out to meet his boyfriend. Sherlock spun around, grinning at John, unusually happy.

"Morning, love." The smaller boy said, standing up on his toes to kiss Sherlock's soft lips.

"Good morning, John. Can we leave now?" He asked. John nodded, and the pale boy took hold of his hand, and they walked out of the dorm. The two boys headed down the stairs into the cafeteria where most of the school were already eating breakfast. John dragged the tall boy over to the hot food queue, which much to Sherlock's dislike, was the longer queue out of the two.

"John, can't you just go and get some cereal. There's no queue at the cereal table. I don't want to stay in here, the people are already annoying me." Sherlock complained, dropping his head to rest on the smaller boy's shoulder.

"Because I want bacon, okay. I don't care if you're getting annoyed with everyone here already, Sherlock. I'm bloody hungry! Try and work on the case or something while you're waiting here." Sherlock frowned and stuck out his bottom lip at John, who just raised his eyebrows at him before turning around to face the food bar. The queue moved forwards at a slow pace, with John inching forwards with the rest of his schoolmates. The tall boy flopped his curls around as he grumbled and moaned with boredom waiting for breakfast to be over.

The two boys finally reached the front of the queue five minutes later, which John was relieved about, tired of Sherlock standing beside him muttering insults at everyone who passed. He piled a bacon and toast onto his plate before walking off in the direction of a table placed in the quieter side of the cafeteria, so as no one would hear Sherlock throwing blunt comments at them. Sherlock pulled his chair out from under the table and sunk down onto it, resting his head on the cool surface of the table. John picked up his knife and fork after he sat down, and jabbed the silver fork lightly into the back of his boyfriend's hand.

"Ouch! John, what're you doing, you idiot?" Sherlock exclaimed, vexed, while John sat laughing through a mouthful of toast. "It's not funny. You've marked me, see!" He complained again, holding his hand up to show the laughing boy the small purple bruises on the back of it.

"Oh shut up, Sherlock. It's nothing. I can guarantee you that I can do a lot better than that. I'll do it right now if you want me to." He said with a smirk, winking at the pale boy.

"No, John. Not here. I should be free this evening though, if you feel the need to demonstrate."

"I think I might have to."

Sherlock and John packed up their books and pens after the bell went, sounding the end of second period. They headed out the classroom, Sherlock gesturing for John to follow him. The smaller boy didn't know where they were going, but he guessed that it would be something that was relevant to the case, so decided it would be best to let his boyfriend carry on. They walked swiftly down the modern languages department to the room across from the staff room.

"Sherlock, what's in that room?" John questioned, having never been behind this door before.

"It's an equipment room. They keep all the supplies for the ground floor subjects in here." Sherlock replied, kneeling down and sliding a small pin through the thin lock. He fiddled with it for a few minutes, removing the pin after he heard a quiet click from inside the door. He twisted the handle, pushing the door open, and entering the room. It was huge, bigger than any of the classroom in the school, just over half the size of the cafeteria, piled from floor to ceiling with packs of jotters and textbooks. Sherlock looked past all of this, focusing on something in the back corner of the room. It was a small object, yet part of it was obscured from view, but it was some sort of metal, the light reflecting off it brightly.

"Sherly, love, what is it?"

"That, John. That's what I've been looking for. It's what should've been in the door of that cupboard. The most important thing I need to be able to solve this case, and I'm close now. Do you know what this means, John?! It means that this case has been set up so that every element has been placed perfectly so I would come across it, but no one else would. That means that whoever's behind this is trying to get my attention."


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything!**

**AN: So sorry for the delay, I was rather late with this update! So many tests and homework lately, but I'll try and keep up to date with this, promise! I hope you enjoy it, please review!**

Sherlock unlocked the door to the dorm room, walking in and flopping down lifelessly on the sofa. John followed his steps and sat down next him, lifting the pale boy's head to rest on his lap.

"Sherly, love. What is it? What's wrong?"

"Th- This… Case, John. It was meant for me. As I said when we went in the cupboard, everything is too well placed. I was meant to find everything I did."

"No, I'm sure that's not it, Sherlock. Why would anyone do that?"

"They're bored, maybe? I can't be the only one who gets bored, John. This is someone smart though, as smart as me. They know exactly what they're doing, what they want, and how to get it."

"Wh- What do they want? Who is it?"

"That's just it, John! I don't know the answer to either of those questions. I need to find out, but if I'm right when I say this person's as smart as I am, which I am, then it's not going to be an easy job. I know the name is Moriarty, but that's all there is to go on." Sherlock lifted his feet off the floor, and stretched his legs into the air. He wrapped his arms round the back of his knees, pulling them down to his chest and holding on tightly, nuzzling his face into John's lap. The burly boy entangled his fingers in his boyfriend's hair, examining each individual curl while Sherlock lay with his eyes closed, his fingertips resting against his lips.

"Sherlock, we better go, we have class, there's only a few minutes of break left." John said while getting up and heading towards the direction of the door.

"You go, I'm staying here." He dismissed John, waving his hand towards the door, his eyes still closed.

"No, Sherlock. You're going to class. I don't care if you find it useless, you're going. Come on, get up." The smaller boy walked back over to the sofa, and stood over Sherlock until he opened his eyes to consider acknowledging his comment. The tall boy stayed silent for a few seconds before rolling his eyes and pulling himself up from the couch.

"Fine. I don't see why I should, but it's obvious you don't have any intentions of leaving here without me, so I guess I'll come." He flipped his hair back and swiped the rogue curls from his face before dragging his feet across the floor as he walked to the door moodily. John locked the door behind them, placing the key in his back pocket, and the two boys made their way down the corridor to the music department. "I guess this lesson won't be too bad, I can finish composing that violin score." Sherlock continued to talk about meaningless subjects until his voice descending into a mutter.

Some five minutes later, the two boys entered the door of their music class, where their classmates were already seated, waiting for the teacher to arrive. All eyes were on them as they made their way to the two empty seats at the back of the class, some of them giggling quietly as they let each other's hand go.

"Oh, for god's sake. Can they not get over it yet?" John whispered to the pale boy.

"Yes, we're gay. You've all known for just under a year. Now, get over it and get on with your stupid little lives." Sherlock announced to his class who were all still staring at the couple. They all looked taken aback by the boy's comment, and turned around to face the front of the classroom after taking a final glance at the two boys, particularly Sherlock who had sat down again. The teacher walked into the room, greeting them all with a 'good morning' before sitting down at her desk to take the register.

Ten minutes later, the class had split up into separate room in the department to practise their instrument. Sherlock grabbed a practice room across from the main classroom while John went to collect their instruments from the music cupboard. He returned to the practice room carrying a small box like case and a violin case. He handed the violin to the curly haired boy who took it from it's case and began to run the bow over the strings elegantly. John opened the clips on his case and opened it. He took out all the parts of his clarinet in order, putting the instrument together before laying the case down and placing music on the stand. Sherlock composed for the majority of the lesson, writing a baroque style piece while John practiced his grade exam pieces, which he would need in two weeks time.

"Ahh, my cheeks hurt!" John complained, puffing his cheeks out, trying to stretch the muscles to stop them cramping up.

"Oh, do be quiet, John. I need to concentrate." Sherlock replied shortly, quickly dismissing his boyfriend's complaint.

"I can't play any more right now though, my cheeks are killing me!" Sherlock sighed and brought his violin down from his chin, laying it on the table. He got up and walked over to John, straddling his lap. He pressed his Cupid's bow lips to the smaller boy's, biting his bottom lip. John whimpered slightly before prying Sherlock's mouth open and rubbing his tongue against the foreign. He felt his arousal pressing against his jeans, and pushed his hands against Sherlock's chest, pushing him away. "Sherlock, we can't do this now! We're in class. Look at us, we're a mess." Sherlock looked down at himself to see his shirt not tucked in, his tie pulled down into a tight knot and his trousers tented. He looked over at John and saw the same results and nodded.

"Yes, okay. However we have the rest of the day, including two free periods after lunch time." Sherlock made a mental note to himself, and smirked, obviously planning something for later in the day, which made John squirm slightly.

"What's the time, love?" The smaller boy asked as he picked up his clarinet again.

"It's five minutes until the lesson is finished. So we should probably pack up." The pale boy stated as he put his violin and bow back into the case and zipped it up. He waited impatiently as John broke down his clarinet and packed it away, tapping his fingers on the lid of the piano to the rhythm of a piece by Bach, as far as John could tell. Sherlock rushed our of the room as soon as his partner was standing, his long legs carrying him gracefully along the corridor to the music cupboard.

The bell sounded for the end of lunch, and Sherlock grabbed hold of John's wrist, thrusting a half pineapple into his hand.

"Sherlock, what on earth are you giving me half a pineapple for?!" John enquired, his face filled with confusion.

"Well, you like pineapple, don't you?"

"Yes, I do, but wh-"

"Well, I thought you might appreciate it, you might be a little hungry later on." The curly haired boy said with a smirk.

"Why would I be hungr- Oh. Right. Err… Thanks, Sherlock?"

"You're very welcome, John. Now let's go."

**AN: I thought I'd let you know that I find it amusingly ironic that my friend and I roleplay as Sherlock and John often (me being John) and I play clarinet, and she plays violin xD. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed that chapter~! :D**


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything!**

**AN: Sorry this chapter took so long to upload! I've had so much going on at school with tests and such! Well, anyway, here it is, so I hope you enjoy it! Please review, I do like reviews, and they really do help me!**

A pale, bony hand grabbed the door handle, the other pushing the gold key into the lock impatiently, turning it to unlock the door to his dorm. He swung it wide open and John pushed him forwards, causing the pale boy to fall forwards and land on his back on the carpeted floor.

"Oh, for goodness sake, John. What the hell are you do-" Sherlock was cut off by the sandy haired boy, who grabbed his shirt collar and pulled him up for a heated kiss, their mouths mashing together and the door still wide open all the while.

"Joh- John. Door, close... The... Door." Sherlock gasped between kisses. He pried the foreign lips off his own reluctantly, pushing John into then door.

"Alright!" John exclaimed, swinging the door shut with a sufficient amount of force. "Better?" He asked, raising an eyebrow at the boy sprawled out on the floor.

"Better." Sherlock said with a smirk and sat up, his dark black curls falling in front of his eyes. He reached his arms out and grabbed John by a belt hook on his trousers, pulling him down so that he was now laying beneath the muscular frame of his boyfriend. John knees straddled Sherlock's hips, his hands at either side of the mess of curls. The tall boy breathed heavily, his pale cheeks flushed with pink as he stared into John's stunningly blue eyes. He swiftly straightened his arms out above his head and grabbed John's wrists in a single movement so that he now closed the space between them. The burly boy freed his wrists from Sherlock's vice grip with difficulty and entangled his fingers in the mass of loose curls. He pressed his lips against Sherlock's, feeling the heat emanate from his body and his boxers become uncomfortably tight around him. He tugged on Sherlock's curls as he thrusted his hips, grinding his arousal against the tall boy's. Sherlock let out a scratchy moan, pushing his hips up roughly. John trailed his fingers lightly from his boyfriend's hair to the top button of his shirt, undoing the top button. He undid the next button and slipped his hand into Sherlock's shirt, caressing the pale skin and flicking his finger repeatedly over the nipple.

"Johnnn... More." Sherlock demanded, his voice husky and quiet. The smaller boy made quick work of unbuttoning the rest of Sherlock's shirt, revealing the smooth sculpted surface of his chest and stomach. John stared at the slightly feminine figure, biting down on the corner of his lip. The curly haired boy had a tiny waist, which gave him an almost curvy figure, but noticeably boyish at the same time.

"You're beautiful , you know that?" John stated, the question intended to be rhetorical.

"Uhm, I didn't, no. Thank you. You too." for once in his life, the genius looked awkward, stuck for words. He wrapped his arms around John's waist, pulling him in for a kiss before he became any more confused. Sherlock pulled the thick, cotton jumper over the shorter boys head, taking his stripy t-shirt off at the same time. He traced a long finger on the contours of John's body; along his chest, his shoulder blades and finally down the v-lines at his hips. He purposely caught his finger on the waistband of the sandy haired boy's trousers and boxers, stretching the material outwards. Sherlock's pale hand swiftly slipped under John's trousers and lay his fingertips lightly on his boyfriend's inner thigh. He traced his nails along the skin with a feather light touch, pressing down on John's crotch with his palm.

"Sherly.." The smaller boy moaned into Sherlock's mouth, muffling the sound. He looked into John's eyes, seeing his pupils hugely dilated and felt his pulse which was racing, almost double the normal rate. John lifted his right hand from the floor and fiddled with the curly haired boy's trouser button, eventually managing to release it. He pulled down the zip and slid his trousers down to his ankles, leaving Sherlock clad in only his black boxer-briefs, contrasting brilliantly with his pallor. John stared at the willowy figure, losing himself in thought.

"Yes, John." Sherlock interrupted.

"Wh- What?" The sandy haired boy questioned in reply, unsure of what Sherlock was replying to.

"What you were thinking. Yes, you can." John's eyes widened, slightly embarrassed but obviously approving of Sherlock's statement.

"How? That's brilliant." It didn't matter how often the tall boy had made deductions infront of his partner, he always seemed to be in awe. Every time.

John lifted himself onto his feet, kicking his trousers down and discarding them with the rest of the clothes. He grabbed Sherlock's hand and pulled him up and forwards, pecking him on the lips. Sherlock steered the burly boy towards the bedroom, stopping just outside the door. He turned to face John and bit his lip seductively before smirking, being rewarded with a wanton moan. John pushed his boyfriend against the door, pinning his hands above his head. He moved in for another heated kiss, pressing their bodies together and grinding roughly. The fair skinned boy opened the door, still holding Sherlock's hands above his head and guided him over to the closest bed. He lay him down and walked over to Sherlock's chest of drawers. He pulled open the bottom drawer and raked through it before returning to the beside. He laid the items on the cabinet, save a pair of leather covered handcuffs, which he secured the curly haired boy's wrists in, effectively chaining him to the bed frame. John slid the boxer-briefs from Sherlock's thin frame, and turned his attention back to the cabinet. Sherlock lay on his back, completely exposed and eyeing the key to the handcuffs.

A few minutes later, John picked up a long thin object; a riding crop with a wide leather panel on the end.

"We'll start with the riding crop, shall we?" Sherlock gulped as John hit the leather panel softly against his palm. He lifted his hand up to his chest and thwacked the ridin crop onto Sherlock's chest, causing him to flinch. The action was repeated several times over his body, leaving pink marks on the pale skin. John rested the cool leather on Sherlock's hip bone, running it down his thigh and back up to his arousal. He trailed the crop up the length and back down again, running it around the base.

"John, John!" Sherlock moaned, bucking his hips up. John straddled the pale boy's hips and steadied himself using Sherlock's sculpted chest as he found his partner's erection behind him with his other hand and began pumping torturously slowly.

"F- Faster," Sherlock pleaded, thrusting his hips up in rhythm eith John's hand. The fair haired boy moved down, between the curly boy's parted legs and positioned himself. He retrieved a bottle of Strawberry flavoured lube from the cabinet and squirted a sufficient amount onto his fore finger. He lay his finger on the entrance to Sherlock's arse, pushing in slowly and feeling the tall boy clench around him.

"Just... Give me a minute." The small boy nodded, and waited until he felt Sherlock loosen slightly to push in further, sliding his finger up and down.

"Ah.. Ahh. More, John. Now, please." John pushed in a second finger and scissored his fingers a few times before thrusting again.

"Yes! John, more!" Sherlock shouted, fucking himself onto John's fingers. He inserted another finger and picked up his pace while Sherlock panted and moaned loudly.

"Fuck me, fuck me now, please, master." He hadn't meant to say that last word, 'master'. John grinned satisfactorily, removing his fingers from Sherlock and grabbing the lube bottle again. He pushed down the nozzle three times, covering his cock completely before placing the head at Sherlock's entrance. The pale boy squeezed his eyes shut and bit down on his bottom lip as John pushed in gently, feeling his boyfriend tight around him. He kept his position for a minute or two, leaning forward to meet Sherlock's lips with his own, mashing them together. Once the tall boy had become accustomed to his situation, John thrusted slowly, creating warm friction inside of Sherlock and making him quiver.

"John, harder. stop being so careful with me. Fuck me... Properly." Sherlock complained. John quickly picked up the pace, pushing himself deep into Sherlock with every thrust. The curly haired boy arched his back in pleasure, tugging down on the handcuffs on the headboard. The moans poured from their mouths and they squeezed their eyes shut in pure ectasy as they were nearing orgasm.

John wrapped his hand around Sherlock's erection, pumping in time with his thrusts. He threw his head back, breathing heavily.

"Johh- JOHN, I'm coming! I'm co-" the pale boy was cut short by a loud, pleasure filled moan as he came over John's hand and chest. The sight of seeing Sherlock in that state, with his thoughts revolving around nothing but pleasure pushed John over the edge, and he thrusted deep into Sherlock a few more times.

"SHERLY" He shouted out as he spilled over, collapsing onto his boyfriend as he removed himself from Sherlock.

The two teenage boys panted heavily as they came down their orgasms, the room filled with the scent of sex and lust. John pressed a chaste kiss to Sherlock's Cupid's bow lips before grabbing the key for the handcuffs and releasing him. The tall boy put his arm around John, holding onto his waist as he let his eyes droop, reminiscing the scenario as he drifted off to sleep.


	13. Chapter 13

**So sorry it's taken me so long to upload! Over a week, thats so bad, ugh. I have important exams coming up in six weeks though, so I'm studying a lot. Here it is though, and I may update again tonight! Please review it~! **

The pale light of the moon made the room glow softly as John arose from sleep. He untangled his limbs from Sherlock's and slipped out of the small bed. He had slept for at least ten hours, the clock showing it to be just past midnight. He wiped his eyes sleepily and tiptoed through to the lounge, opening the translucent curtains to look into the grounds below. Everything was peaceful and still, the only sound being the soft whisper of the wind blowing through the trees. John sat down on the window sill, pulling his knees up to his chest and looked at the clear sky, admiring the stars lighting the world below.

He didn't know how long he had been staring into the night for when he heard Sherlock's voice.

"Johnnnn. John, where are you?" Came a surprisingly childish voice from the bedroom. The sandy haired boy stepped off the window sill and walked quietly through to his room to find his boyfriend sitting up against the head of the bed.

"Hi, love. What is it?" John asked, his voice gentle. The curly haired boy reached down the side of the bed and picked up 'The Lord of the Rings' from the floor. He held it out to his boyfriend, pushing it into his hands.

"Wh- What?" John questioned.

"Read to me, I like listening to your voice. " The smaller boy smiled warmly at Sherlock, leaning forwards to lay a kiss on his forehead before pulling back and opening the book. He began to read, the story coming to life; his voice filled with the emotion of the characters. Sherlock tucked the duvet under his chin and became lost in the sweet sound of John's voice, humming with content.

Several hours must have passed before the tall boy's eyes began to droop, his breathing slowing as he fell into a light sleep. Even as John began to hear the soft snores coming from Sherlock, he continued to read, filling the silence. Minutes passed by as he fell into the world of The Shire, the minutes turning into an hour, when he felt a finger tap his shoulder.

"John?" The sandy haired boy snapped his head up, cutting off his sentence.

"Oh, how long have you been awake, love?"

"For the last twenty minutes. Can we get up now? There's something I need to do." Sherlock's eyes looked almost pleading as he looked up at John, waiting for his approval.

"Sherly, it's three in the morning. What on earth do you need to do at this time?"

"The case, John. I need to finish this case, tonight. And I can. Look out the window." The pale boy nodded his head towards the direction of the large window which he was staring out of. "John, quick, look!"

"What is it?!"

"There, inside the grounds, do you see those two boys there?" The smaller boy craned his neck just in time to catch a glimpse of two boys, with a muscular frame and the other short an willowy. He considered for a few minutes what Sherlock found so interesting about them, why they were so important to the case. They were just two boys, walking across the school grounds. He had seen them around before, they seemed like decent blokes.

"So, what's up? Who are they?"

"Jim Moriarty and Sebastian Moran," Sherlock replied, his eyes hardening. "They are the 'masterminds' I think the word is, of this case. They're both students at this school, you know that already, but the shorter one is registered here under a false identity. That is Jim Moriarty, he goes by the name of Richard Brook."

"So, you've solved the case then?" John assumed.

"Not quite. Almost. That object we found in the supply room, it's the same object from the photo that Molly Hooper had. It's what they wanted... Except they already had it. They didn't need Molly in this case, they needed her to get my attention. Ohhh, they're smart!"

"Sherlock, what are you trying to say?" John enquired, still confused at what Sherlock was trying to say.

"What I'm trying to say, John, is what I said before. This case was meant for me. For some reason, Jim Moriarty wants my attention. I can't be the only one that gets bored. Now quick, let's go!" Sherlock leaped from the bed, slipping a pair of converse on and grabbing his black trench coat from the door. "Hurry, John!"

Five minutes the two boys were racing down the corridor to the side door to the grounds.

"Okay, they should be here any minute now. There's no other way for them to get ba- Here they are! Come on!" Sherlock grabbed John's hand and pulled him into a small alcove. The footsteps crescendoed as they came closer, only a few metres away now. Sherlock stepped out into the middle of the corridor as they came up to the alcove. The two boys didn't look at all surprised at his sudden appearance, but almost pleased.

"Ah, we've been expecting you, haven't we, Sebby?"


	14. Chapter 14

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything!**

**AN: Okay, this chapter's longer than my last one, thank goodness. I have my laptop back now after it had a virus, and everything had to get completely wiped! So, I'm glad to have it back, my poor baby. Chapter will be updated more frequently now I have it back though, so yay! I hope you enjoy this chapter, please review~!**

"Walk with us, Sherly, dear. You too, Johnny boy," Moriarty invited, poking his head round the corner into the alcove. He held his hand out to John, who took it very cautiously as he edged out of the alcove into the main pathway.

"Tell me why we should, and I'll consider it. Why do you want my attention?" Sherlock questioned, his eyes narrowing as he thought.

"Ah, I could do that, but that's BORING. I didn't take you for the boring kind. Come on, we can talk about it over a cup of tea." Jim let go of John's hand and led the way forwards back into the corridor, turning right to walk to their dorm. Everything was silent save the rhythmic tapping of Jim's shoes and the shallow breaths John emitted. The atmosphere stuck for the few minutes it took them to reach the dorm of 412A. Sebastian drew a key out of his pocket and slipped it into the lock, twisting the door knob and pushing it open. He stood aside and gestured politely, letting Sherlock and John in first.

"On you go boys, have a seat. I'll put the kettle on," The shorter, willowy boy said. He waved his hand carelessly at the sofa as he headed to the kettle in a small corner of the room, flicking the switch on.  
Their dorm was far better furnished than any John had seen in the school before. There were multiple paintings hung on the wall; mostly vast landscapes, the couch was he was seated on was a three seater, plush and comfortable. Not to mention the fact that they had a bloody kettle.  
'Why don't we have a kettle in our room? I could do with the occasional cuppa.' John thought as he gazed around the room again. The silence in the room was becoming tense as each of the individuals fell into their own thoughts.

"Right! Tea's ready, now let's talk about our little situation, shall we?" Jim notified them all happily, carrying a tray with four mugs on it and laying it down on the oriental coffee table. John picked his mug up, sipping at his tea contently while Sherlock and Jim looked at each other curiously. "Right, here's my problem, Sherly. I don't get you. You're so… Different from the others. I don't like it."

"Obviously. It took you this long to realise? Amateur." The curly haired boy replied bluntly, looking down into the light brown liquid.

"Actually, I think you'll find that I've been rather busy, dear. I noticed months ago, and since then YOU KEEP RUINING MY WORK!" The short, dark haired boy shouted, the veins in his temples very prominent and his face turning red.

"I don't understand. How have I been ruining your work?" Sherlock enquired, his eyebrows furrowed.

"You and that little 'business' you've got going on. A consulting detective. That's what you call yourself." He chuckled to himself before morphing his face into a look of sheer vexation. "Now. I'll tell you what's going to happen. You're going to leave me alone. Stop ruining my work. If you don't. I will burn you, I'll burn the heart out of you. Now, finish your tea and off you pop." Jim lifted his mug up to his mouth, aiming a small smile at Sherlock before sipping on his tea.

"…What… The hell was that all about?!" John asked Sherlock, looking at him in disbelief.

"That, John, dear, was a warning." The taller boy replied coolly, fixing his shirt collar as they sat down on their own sofa, which felt oddly uncomfortable in comparison with Jim and Sebastian's.

"A warning for what?!" He questioned, still trying to get to grips with the conversation he had just heard.

"For… me. To stop… solving cases… Or… Or.."

"Or what, Sherlock?" The sandy haired boy asked, his face becoming worried. Sherlock looked scared. John had only seen him like this once before. His hands were trembling on his lap, there were beads of perspiration trickling down his forehead and neck, and he was struggling for words. "Sherlock Holmes. Or what?!"

"O- Or.. There will be… consequences." Sherlock spat out. The room went silent. John pondered his thoughts. 'Consequences? What does he mean, what kind of consequences?'  
Sherlock glanced at his boyfriend over and over again, not sure if what he said was the right thing. 'Consequences. Don't be so stupid, Sherlock. He'll bloody kill you, that's more than a fucking consequence! Tell John. No, don't tell him, it'll just make him worry more. What the fuck do I do?'  
The room remained deathly quiet for what felt like hours as the two boys explored their minds, Sherlock's thoughts wandering off to their anniversary plans. John leaned sideways and rested his head sleepily on the pale boy's lap, entwining their fingers together. He closed his eyes, and Sherlock twirled his fingers around John's hair, receiving an affectionate hum from him. The detective stared at his boyfriends face, set in a content, peaceful state. 'You're beautiful, John.' Sherlock said internally, stroking John's jaw line. 'So beautiful.'

The morning was bright and sunny when John awoke, his head now resting on a cushion at the side of the couch. He heard a quiet rumbling sound from behind him and sat up, turning around to see what it was, his face looking curious. As he looked round, he saw a white, electric kettle with a blue light that was lighting the inside when it was boiling the water.

"Sherlock, love! Where are you?" John called looking around the room, Sherlock nowhere to be found.  
"Yes? Through here!" Sherlock called back from the bedroom.

"Come here a minute, I have something to say to you." He smiled widely as he heard footsteps rapidly approaching the door. His tall boyfriend walked through the door, clad in a pair of deep purple boxer-briefs, his curls flipped messily to the side. He walked over to the couch, grinning at the sandy haired boy. John reached his arms up and pulled Sherlock onto the couch, planting a kiss on his Cupid's bow lips.

"You're bloody fantastic, you know. A kettle. How did you-?"

"It was blatantly obvious you wanted a kettle after you saw the one in Jim and Sebastian's room last night, so I went to town to get one earlier while you were sleeping," Sherlock explained, both of them still with smiles plastered on their faces. The kettle switch popped, and the curly haired boy stood up. "Tea, dear?"

"Would be brilliant, thanks."


	15. Chapter 15

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything!**

**AN: So sorry I've taken so long to upload this chapter! I've been so busy these past few weeks and I can barely find the time to write! I did take far too long to write this, it was also partly apathy that stopped me writing, so I'll get the next chapter up quicker. I'm not quite sure whether the majority of this chapter actually has a proper plot to it, but it needs to be bulked up! I hope you enjoy it though! Please review!~**

"Right, the bus is in twenty minutes, John. Come on, get ready."

"Bloody hell, Sherl. You don't give me much time do you?"

"Why would I do that, it's not like you need much time, you just need to put clothes on. We're going to town," Sherlock said, sweeping his messy curls back from his face and strutting around the bedroom impatiently.

"Yeah, okay, okay! Right, lets go then!" John exclaimed, pulling on his shoes and grabbing the door key. The tall boy followed him with his blue-grey eyes trained on the ground and his hands slipped in his pockets. They walked in silence down the corridor and down the stairs, crossing paths with a few of the other students as they made their way down to the foyer. Sherlock felt out John's hand and took it, squeezing lightly as they walked into the grounds. A small group of year seven's sniggered into their sleeves as the couple passed. The taller one of the two stopped dead and dropped his hand from John's. He lifted his slender fingers up to his boyfriend's face and ran them through his hair, pressing his Cupid's bow lips to the soft flesh of his cheek.

"FAGGOTS," The boys jeered, making obscure hand gestures towards John and Sherlock.

"John, may I?" Sherlock questioned, waiting impatiently for the smaller boy's answer. John pondered for a few seconds, wondering whether it would be worth it and then smirked at his boyfriend, nodding his head in approval. Sherlock sniggered and observed the group quickly before setting out to voice his deductions.

"Straight, comes from a homophobic background, shame. Straight, oooh, interesting. You don't actually care, you just want to fit in, tsk tsk. Bisexual. Gay, your parents won't like that, will they? Gay. Straight, homophobic, obviously, your father is gay though, you don't like that, hm," Sherlock read the boys like a book, and several of them now had bright red faces, he wasn't sure if it was embarrassment or anger. Possibly both.

"You're a bloody freak, you know that?!" One of the boys shouted before turning to run into the school building, quickly followed by the others, except one.

"Th- That was amazing. How… How did you do that?" The tallest boy out of the group asked.

"I simply observed," Sherlock replied coolly, turning the corners of his lips up into a slight smile.

"Wow. It's fantastic. But, why did you have to say that? Everybody will know now, I don't know how to- I don't know."

"You'll be fine, I promise," John intercepted comfortingly. "You're going to face a little bullying, of course, but if other people have a problem with it, then fuck them. The ones who're really your friends won't care that you're gay, just give it time." The year seven's face softened at John's words and he thanked the two before walking through the grass round to the back of the school.

"Well done, John," The curly haired boy complimented.

"For what, it's you who showed them up, you were brilliant!"

"You helped that boy. You know, he reminds me of you a little."

"What? How on earth does he remind you of me, we're nothing alike, other than the fact that we're both gay."

"Ah, John. As I have said many times before, you see but you do not observe. Did you not hear what he said? How he acted towards us. Unlike the others, he found my skill interesting. He didn't shun like the others, he was understanding." John faced his boyfriend, wrapping his arms round the small waist and pulling him against his body. He reached up and planted a peck on Sherlock's lips again, smiling into the kiss.

"Sherlock Holmes, I bloody love you," He said between another few kisses.

"And you too, my dear," Sherlock replied, hugging John close. "JOHN, THE BUS, LET'S GO!" He shouted, pulling them apart and setting off into a sprint out of the school grounds and onto the main path. The bus had just passed them and was pulling up to the stop where a few people were already paying for their tickets into town. Sherlock was a few metres in front of the smaller boy as they ran, desperately trying to reach the stop before the bus pulled off.

"Sherlock, we can get the next one, it's alright!" John shouted breathlessly.

"No, John, we can't! I have things I need to do. We're not just going for a jolly little trip to town!" Sherlock burst forwards, reaching the back of the bus just as the driver moved to close the doors. "STOP!" He shouted loudly as he stopped at the entrance to the vehicle. John caught up as Sherlock dug their fares out of his pocket and dropped the coins into the slot and handing John's ticket to him. They made their way to the back row of seats and Sherlock rushed to the window seat and giggled childishly at his success as John took his place next to him.

The bus journey was long, the time seemed to pass slower than usual as the vehicle travelled through the quaint towns and villages before pulling into it's final stop at the station.

"Thank you!" John said as he exited the bus with Sherlock's hand in his own. The two boys made their way out into the cobblestone street and headed for the high street. They walked in silence, soaking in the warm sunlight, and relishing their time away from the school grounds.

"Okay, John. I need to leave you here for a while. Well, not here, you can do what you please, but I need to go somewhere. I'll meet you here in an hour or so, goodbye!" Sherlock had hurried off away from John before the sandy haired boy had time to gather his thoughts.

"Right then, okay!" He mumbled, before plastering a smile onto his face and sauntering down the high street, window shopping before deciding what to buy first.

He entered a small shop; a spy shop. It was filled with all sorts of odd contraptions, a fair few that John was sure Sherlock would adore. He picked a small device up, turning it around in the palm of his hand a few times before taking it over to the till.

"I'll take this one please!"

"Right o! That'll be £29.95 please," The cashier said cheerily. John raised his eyebrows and let out a long breath.

"Didn't know it cost that much!" He said with a sarcastic giggle as he drew a few notes from his wallet and cashing them in for the device. "Sherlock better be bloody happy with this."


	16. Chapter 16

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything!**

**AN: Oh my gosh, this is the first time I've uploaded in a month. So sorry for that guys! I'm ridiculously busy, especially for someone with literally zero social life. Also, sorry for the quality of this chapter, I really just wanted to upload again, so it's not fantastically written or anything, next one will be better! I hope you enjoy it nonetheless! Please review, lovelies~!**

John dropped his bags on the bench before taking a seat and craning his neck to check the time on the town clock. Twelve o'clock. Sherlock should arrive any moment. He sat twiddling his thumbs, checking over his purchases and thinking about his homework assignments, trying to pass the time as the wind blew against his face making his cheeks turn a colour of light pink. He turned round to look at the clock again, not knowing how long he had been idle for. Half past twelve. Where was Sherlock? He was never late, especially not when it involved seeing John. The boy stood up, straightening his jacket out before scooping up his shopping bags and setting off in the direction Sherlock had left when they had went separate ways. He glanced in shop windows, peering into small alleyways and backstreets as he walked, trying to find his boyfriend. The bus station was busy as he walked past; people were mulling around, talking to friends or looking at bus times and buying tickets. John scanned the throngs of people for Sherlock, his eyes briefly stopping on every tall, dark haired male in the room. Sherlock was once again nowhere to be seen. Where the hell could he be? John turned on his heel, clenching his fists and marched back out of the station into the high street, looking through the doors and windows of more shops.

"John! John, wait!" A loud, baritone voice came from a few metres behind him, making him jump slightly. He turned around, glaring as he saw Sherlock's lean figure running towards him.

"Bloody hell, Sherlock. Where on earth did you go? This town's bloody tiny, and you still manage to disappear, jesus," The sandy haired boy placed the bags on the ground beside him carefully before wrapping his arms round Sherlock's small waist and squeezing tightly. The taller boy hugged him back briefly before pulling away and giving John a look of confusion.

"John, why are you hugging me like that? I've been away for under two hours."

"You were supposed to meet me at twelve o'clock, you twat. I've been waiting and looking for you for ages! You're never late."

"Well… I wouldn't say never, for obvious reasons. As it turns out, I was busy, arranging…. Arrangements. Before you ask; which you were, I'm not going to tell you. You'll find out… Tomorrow, ohh" Sherlock's voice filled with excitement, an emotion which John was not accustomed to hearing from him. "Right, well, it's clear that you've finished with your 'shopping', as have I, shall we see when the next bus back to school is?"

"Actually, love, do you fancy going for lunch at the restaurant down the road? I'm a bit peckish."

"If we must, I shan't be eating though, I've got another case to wo-"

"Noooo you don't. You'll be eating, and I'll be paying. Early anniversary treat," John smiled as Sherlock furrowed his eyebrows, not pleased at being told to eat against his will.

"Fine. Why do you have to be so stubborn, John? What's so important about this regular eating stuff anyway?"

"Sherlock Holmes. Don't even try to play that card with me. I know that you know exactly how important eating is. Now lets go," John picked his bags up again, Sherlock eyeing them suspiciously to try and see their contents. He took his boyfriend's hand and walked towards a small, dimly lit restaurant at the top of the street called 'The Snake Pit'.  
The dark haired boy pushed the door open and pulled John in behind him, waiting at the service counter to be seated. The restaurant was comfortably occupied, not too crowded, but enough people to fill the silence well. John listened to the sizzling of food coming from the open kitchens, his mouth watering at the steak being plated up for another customer.

"Good afternoon. Table for two?" The waiter asked politely, a small smile on his face. John nodded politely while Sherlock muttered "Obviously," after sighing. "Well, if you'd like to follow me this way and I'll lead you to your seats. The two boys followed the waiter, smiling contently when they were seated in a quiet corner of the restaurant, away from the other customers. "Okay, here are your menus, just call me over when you're ready to order," John smiled and nodded before looking down at his menu to decide what to eat.

"So, Sherlock. What're you going to order? The sandy haired boy enquired, humming subconsciously.

"I don't know. I'm thinking about just going for spaghetti carbonara, it's a small dish, I guess I can eat it."

"Sherlock," John gave the pale boy a stern look, which Sherlock replied to with innocent eyes and a smirk.

"I'm eating, John. Isn't that what you wanted? " He was right, it is what he wanted, he couldn't deny that. "Oooh, John. I heard that the snake wine is really nice, would you perhaps like to try it?" John's face froze as the words came out of Sherlock's mouth.

"Snake. Snake wine, are you sure. I mean… I guess. Eh, sure, we can.. Try it."

"Perfect, let's order."

Sherlock called the waiter over and they placed their orders, discussing Sherlock's current experiments and investigations while they waited for their food and drinks to arrive.  
A rounded bottle was brought over to the table in an ice filled bucket along with two wine glasses, one set down beside either of them. The dark haired boy picked up the bottle, observing it's contents intently before screwing the metallic lid off it. He poured each of them half a glass of the cream tinted liquid just as their food arrived, and placed the bottle back into it's bucket.

"Bon appetite," Sherlock said gracefully before picking up his fork and curling up the corners of his lips to form a smile. They ate in silence, John spending a great deal of his time watching Sherlock closely to make sure that he was actually eating his food and not discarding of it some other way.

John poured the remainder of the wine into the two glasses before handing the empty bottle to Sherlock who turned it upside down and began trying to hook the dried snake out with his finger.

"Sherlock, leave it. Or take the bottle back with you, I don't think you're going to be able to get it out of there. Please, dear god, don't do anything stupid in here." Sherlock it seemed, decided to ignore John's words and raised the bottle a little above shoulder height and hesitating. "Sherlock Holmes, don't you bloody dare."


	17. Chapter 17

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything!**

**AN: Woah, guys. I haven't uploaded in ages! I'm sorry about that, yeah. I really have nothing to blame but apathy. Because it was Christmas time and I was being a lazy shit. Anyway!  
Next chapter will be the last: Sherlock and John on their anniversary, and do expect slash. I will be sure to add a long slash scene! ;) It will of course, be a long chapter, as there'll be a lot to include in it, so it may take me a week or two to write it due to a ****_lot_**** of studying for exams now.  
I hope you all enjoy it anywho, and reviews would be greatly appreciated~!**

An ear splitting noise rang through the restaurant as the bottle crashed onto the table, glass shattering everywhere. Sherlock smirked at his success and scooped up the dried snake from within a pile of shards, shoving it quickly in his pocket.

"This should keep me busy for a few days, a week if I'm lucky," He muttered to himself, looking up to John's face expecting a smile to match his own. Instead he was met with an expression which could only be described as outrage. John's face was bright red, his breathing shallow and heavy, veins prominent in his forehead and his eyes fixated on Sherlock. Eyes that were burning through his pale skin like lasers.

"Sherlock, get the hell out of this restaurant. I'll be out to deal with you in a minute." John spoke to him like a five year old child, which was somewhat necessary. I mean, he did act like one at the worst of times. A waitress came out of a door, leading to the kitchen most likely, holding a dustpan and brush in her hands. She made her way over to where John was kneeling, picking up the larger shards of glass and laying them onto the table.

"It's fine, I've got it. The bill's just coming, you can pay it and leave, I'll clean up. It's my job." The sandy haired teenager looked up at the woman, his eyes filled with sympathy although a few remnants of anger lingered at the back of his head.

"No, no. I couldn't do that, it was my boyfriend's fault, therefore I'm partly to blame. I'll help you," John had a remarkably kind heart, even to complete strangers. The young woman smiled at him and said her thanks before crouching down and sweeping the shards up into a pile and into the dustpan.

"Thank you, you didn't need to help me, really. I'll just go and get the bill if you want?" John nodded and replied with a "Yes, please!" before scrappling in his pocket for his wallet and pulling two twenty pound notes out of it. The waitress came back over with the bill on a small silver tray and handed it to John. He skimmed his eyes over it quickly, looking at the total. £19.95. Not too bad, John had expected it to be a lot more than that! He folded one of the notes and slid it into his back pocket before putting a twenty onto the tray and swiftly exiting the restaurant, all eyes on him and the tall boy on the other side of the glass. Sherlock gripped the snake in his coat pocket, avoiding making eye contact with his boyfriend. John grabbed on to the thin, pale wrist, and dragged the body it belonged to behind him, not speaking until they reached the shelter of the bus station. He checked the bus times quickly, seeing that the next one wasn't for another ten minutes. Time to lecture Sherlock then. He turned to face the tall boy, who's eyes were fear filled; the first time John had ever seen him like that. Sympathy began to take over his mind, but he shook his head violently at the feeling.

"Tell me, Sherlock. What the hell was hat all about, huh? Do you have any idea what you just did?"

"I- I… I got the snake out of the bottle. I didn't mean to … hurt anyone, John. I promise. I'm sorry," Sherlock apologised, his voice resembling that of a child who was being scolded by his father.

"That's all good and well then, but it doesn't make up for what you did in there. You smashed a glass bottle on the table! The glass was everywhere, how did you know that it wasn't going to fly into someone's eye?!" Sherlock opened his mouth, reply on his tongue. "That was rhetorical, Sherl. I don't want to hear your deductions and calculations." John was beginning to feel really guilty now. He knew Sherlock hadn't meant any harm by his actions, and his eyes were slowly welling up. He obviously didn't like John being angry at him.

"J-Jo- John. My John. I'm sorry, so sorry," He stuttered between breathy sobs. "Please believe me. I won't do it again, I promise." John opened his mouth but no sound came out for a few seconds. Thinking, Sherlock assumed.

"Sherlock. Of course I believe you, love. It's just that you need to know that it's not acceptable, and you're stubborn as hell so I couldn't be nice about it." The dark haired boy nodded in understanding and wiped the tears from his cheeks before stretching his arms out forward. John understood immediately and walked forward to be enclosed in arms. He reached his hand up and tangled it in the soft curls, pushing his head down so that he could plant a chaste kiss to his lips.

The bus pulled up and the two boys stepped on, smiling at the bus driver as they paid for the tickets. They made their way up to their usual seat at the front of the upstairs and plonked down onto the velvety chairs. John took Sherlock's bag from him and threw it over onto the chairs opposite along with his own bags, taking his boyfriend's now free hand in his own. The journey continued uneventfully as usual; only a few people getting on and off every now and then. Sherlock spent most of time playing with John's hair, running his fingers through the soft bristles.

They remained quiet silent until they got back into the school grounds, save thanking the bus driver. Sherlock sent more than necessary apologies to John through quick glances and wincing as he attempted half smiles.

"Sherlock, I forgive you. I'm not angry at you anymore, cheer up, love. Please." A slightly more convincing smile stretched across Sherlock's lips and he bent down to pull John in for a kiss. They stood just to the side of the entrance to the school foyer, John's arm wrapped around the tall boy's waist and Sherlock's in the sandy hair. He ran the tip of his tongue over the tanned boy's bottom lip, being accepted instantly and prying his mouth open. The kiss became more heated as their breaths mixed and John nibbled on Sherlock's pastel lips, bruising them lightly. Moans escaped from the mouths of the two teenagers as John pulled them flush together, his jeans pushing down uncomfortably on his erection.  
They heard a girl clear her throat from behind the door. John's eyes snapped open and he parted from his Sherlock to see who was there. He saw it was their friend, Sarah Sawyer, a girl in their biology class. Sherlock smiled at her, and John blushed profusely.

"Hey guys… You may wanna take that upstairs…?" Sarah suggested, gesturing upwards. John nodded and blushed an even more shocking shade of red, making Sherlock and Sarah giggle at him.

"Oh do stop it, John. You're acting like a pre-pubescent girl." He earned a scowl from the shorter boy as he pulled him into the school building, Sarah closing the doors behind them.

"Ehm, well. We'll see you tomorrow, or Monday, I suppose," John said,

"Yeah, sure thing! Oh, happy anniversary for tomorrow," She replied with a wink before walking briskly down the east corridor.  
Sherlock and John climbed the staircase up to the main corridor, and walked to their dorm, smiling helplessly after Sarah had mentioned their anniversary. John pulled his key out of his back pocket, being careful not to drop the £20 note as he slid the metal out and slotted into the lock, turning and swinging the door open.

Half an hour later and both boys had wrapped their presents for the other, Sherlock's being slightly more ruffled than John's. He had never attempted to wrap a present before, he didn't understand the need, but knew that John liked the idea. He threw his gift lightly onto the sofa and walked into his bedroom to find John climbing into bed.

"Better get some sleep, Sherl. We'll be pretty busy tomorrow, I assume?"

"You assume correctly. We certainly will."

"Which means. You will actually sleep. I won't unless you do." Sherlock frowned at him, disapproving of this but knowing that it was important John.

"Fine. I guess I could do with catching up on a few hours rest." He stripped down to his boxers and stepped into a pair of baggy pyjama bottoms before skulking over to the sandy haired boy's bed. He bent down and went to press a kiss to John's forehead, which John changed by quickly angling his head upwards so the kiss landed on his lips instead. Sherlock smiled warmly and stood upright, making his way over to his own bed in two long strides and climbing in.

"Goodnight, John."  
"Night, Sherl."


End file.
